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Chapter 2
"Where is Peregrin?" Eglantine repeated, getting to her feet, brown eyes wildly scanning everything within her line of vision for her son... why, he was virtually a fauntling, and he had vanished from what was supposed to be the watchful eyes of his older cousins! How could the boys have been so irresponsible as to permit her son to evade their line of vision? She glared at first Samwise, then Fredegar, then Frodo, and finally Meriadoc.
Perplexed, the four boys turned to look behind them and along the length of the hallway from whence they had come, expecting to discern the toddling hobbit-child crawling or awkwardly walking behind them. However, the youngest Took was not to be found. Alarmed, the children exchanged worried glances- the grown-ups were going to be positively furious with them!
It was Frodo who hesitantly voiced the information the four were loath to divulge. "We... we do not know, Aunt Eglantine."
In response, Pippin's mother turned pale. Paladin Took also got to his feet and strode across the room so that he was directly in front of the children. Crossly placing his hands upon his hard and anger coming into his green eyes, he who was in line to succeed the current Thain of Tookland Ferumbras imperiously inquired, "And when did you last see my son?"
"Er..." Frodo looked away, down at the ground. The other boys shifted uneasily behind him. Sam's face had went bright red, Merry's hands were clenching and unclenching within the pockets of his breeches, and Fatty had completely forgotten the last handful of cake he was grasping.
"Er..." the tweenager repeated again- "Well, he was just behind us when we left the sitting room, I know that, he followed us when we quit the area... er... I thought he had come to the study all the way!"
"Me as well," 11-year-old Merry offered. "He was pulling on my foot a few times, and I told him to stop and he did."
"If you knew he was following you," Paladin began, "then you should have picked him up and carried him! You know he likes to wander off."
It was Merry who responded, "He always follows me everywhere though! I think that little fauntling has grown quite fond of me!"
Eglantine managed a small smile. "Indeed he is. He has seemed as though he were trying to say your name... among the few words he has managed, one of them is 'Meh-wy' along with ;Mummy' and 'Da' and other standard words for fauntlings."
The young child's eyes widened with astonishment at these rather unexpected news. "Really?"
"Really," Paladin responded. "However... we must find him."
"Indeed we must," Bilbo spoke, joining Peregrin's parents in front of the four boys. "And I would like all four of you to help us. Frodo-lad, I wish for you to lead your cousin and friend around the smial to look for him... I especially wish for you to check the bedrooms and the kitchen, or my study again- any room, essentially, that has objects that might attract a fauntling. We adults shall divide up and search all of the rooms ourselves as well- but you know your cousin better with all of your story-telling, I surmise."
Nodding in obedience, Frodo turned back into the hallway and made directly for the kitchen, closely followed by the others. Pippin was already showing signs of potentially being among the more gluttonous of hobbit-children, and it was possible he had found some of the food in there. If not in the kitchen, he thought, the pantry was the next most-likely location.
~~~~~~
Entering the kitchen, two seta of brown eyes, one hazel, and one blue scanned the vicinity. It was no good, Pippin was there. Three turned to leave, but Merry suggested, "Maybe he is trying to play hide-and-seek." After all, he recalled, that had been his own means of tormenting his babysitters. He would find a small space to conceal himself and patiently wait to see hew long it took his frazzled relative to locate him. Frodo himself would remember that game, actually- he had proved far more adept than most at locating the shifty child.
Indeed Frodo remembered, for he laughed. "You did that to e all the time! Have you taught him that lesson, you scoundrel?"
"Of course not... but perhaps the little scamp somehow figured it out for himself! Merry suggested, looking under all of the chairs. Frodo checked behind the various furniture required of a hobbit-kitchen, while Fatty ducked under the storage cupboards. Sam, meanwhile, lingered at the door, feeling awkward. He wanted to help, but it would be most improper to go rifling through all of the Baggins' things... his strict and socially aware father would surely be most displeased if he invaded the privacy of his Da's employers.
No sign of Pippin anywhere.
"Well, he has not found these cookies," Fatty remarked, indicating a jar. Opening it, he took one for himself and began munching.
~~~~~~~
A visit to the pantry proved as fruitless as the one to the kitchen, and the dining room did not help either. The adults seemed to be checking the very opposite end of the smial, as Frodo observed. Tapping his chin thoughtfully, Bilbo's adopted son thoughtfully asked, "What are Pippin's sisters doing? Are they searching, or just the adults?"
"Ithinktheyweresewing" Fatty said very fast, through a very large mouthful of some unknown food. In fact, he had filched a second, particularly large cookie, undetected by the others.
"Pardon?" Frodo asked, unable to make out the muffled and fast words.
Freddy swallowed, a large lump visible in his throat as the food began its descent in his gullet. "I think they were sewing.
"That's right..." Frodo said absently, blue eyes staring thoughtfully in a ceiling-bound direction.
"Maybe they know Pippin's favourite sort of places," Merry suggested. It was a distinct possibility, for they lived with Pippin. Several of his slightly older cousins- Frodo included- had foiled his childish plots to escape years before simply by knowing random facts about him, such as the one that he was fond of shiny objects in his years as a fauntling.
"Fair point," Frodo said, taking off down the hall, with Merry close behind, Sam after him, and Fatty puffing along at the rear. If Folco were still here, he would have passed all four- he was a most fleet-footed youngster, Folco Boffin!
"Any luck?" Pearl asked, her green eyes peeping over the top of the sampler.
Not concerning himself with answering in the negative, Frodo asked "What kind of places does Pippin enjoy when he wanders off? Does he do that often at home?"
"YES, all of the time" Pearl responded rather vehemently. As the eldest, it was to her whom her father always delegated the task of baby-sitting, although Pimpernel and occasionally Pervinca shared in the work once in a while when Pearl had other obligations to attend to, such as instruction in proper conduct as an aristocratic hobbit-woman, or letters, or reading, or music.
"He loves the kitchen. He nibbles on everything within reach that can be eaten!" Pervinca offered.
That information was not particularly helpful, for Peregrin's budding sweet-tooth was no secret to any cousin that got to spend even a single day with the precocious fauntling. He did have a penchant for pilfering dessert- dessert or mushrooms. It was a common opinion that he learned how to steal sweets even before the time it is generally expected for a child to distinguish between tasty desserts and more wholesome options such as carrots and celery. Even more astonishingly, he had been caught by his middle sister Pimpernel happily indulging in a piece of crumpet he had managed to procure- when teething! When he still had hardly any teeth! Evidently he had particularly strong gums! After those teeth had come in, Peregrin had been most pleased to experiment with this addendum to his anatomy on food, dishes, furniture- people... his sister Pervinca still had visible scarring on one arm from when she had been holding her brother and he had decided to see how hard he could bite her arm. The answer? Quite forcefully. The then-six-year-old girl had immediately shrieked and burst into tears, nearly dropping her brother, and their mother had immediately berated the fauntling with a "Bad Peregrin! Bad!" and whisked the infant from her youngest daughter's arms. Fortunately, Peregrin had subsequently desisted in biting people- apparently he had decided that the taste of the results of breaking skin quite repulsive.
"We knew *that*" Merry said. "What else?"
The sisters exchanged glances. The others present were simply watching the proceedings, although 8-year-old Estella Bolger had thrown her crudely sewn sampler aside in boredom and was now very interested in kicking her heels against the legs of the chair.
"He likes seeing what's behind a door, so if one is ajar, he'll go through it," Pimpernel recalled.
"He is very curious," Pervinca chimed in. "He is one of those for whom we can NEVER allow a sharp or poisonous object within reach!" After that, the sisters had no more to say. However, the young search party decided that they were sufficiently informed- for the present.
Frodo nodded. "That helps... thank you. If you think of anything else, come find us."
~~~~
The boys removed themselves to the hallway. "We don't really know anything," Fatty said, "all fauntlings are curious."
"Not as much as Peregrin! He is quite the probing and prodding little pip!" Merry astutely observed. Frodo nodded in agreement, and Sam did likewise. He still had not spoken at all, but now he was crossing his arms and shivering silently. He was growing rather cold, but did not wish to take a chance of offending Frodo by complaining so. He thought he could feel a draft emanating through the corridor as well.
That was rather queer, actually. His own home often had drafts, but Mr. Bilbo was typically good at maintaining warmth with the hearth, especially with visiting relatives. This was among the very few times he had felt uncomfortable temperature-wise in here. Was it simply because it was a particularly frigid winter? Most likely, he decided.
While Peregrin's cousins speculated, Sam idly looked around, only half-listening. Suddenly, his brown eyes fell upon- a door. A door leading outside was standing ajar. No wonder it was so cold in here! He shifted his weight uncertainly on his feet. Ought he to simply close it? But closing a door without permission might just as easily be construed as bold a breach of etiquette as insinuating that his hosts were incompetent at warming the smial with a fire.
"What is it, Sam?" Frodo suddenly asked.
Startling, the Gamgee lad swallowed, then shyly asked, "May I close that door, please? It is rather chilly in here." He pointed at the open door.
The open door! Frodo's blue eyes widened with a mixture of realization and horror. An open door to *outside*, in the bitter cold and dark and wind! What was more, white flakes were falling from the sky... it was beginning to snow!
Snow was rare and an occasion for celebration in the Shire, but it was common knowledge that *while* it was snowing, particularly as hard as the fluffy white flakes were plummeting from the dark sky, it was prudent to remain in the shelter of one's house or hole.
Unfortunately, the door was wide open enough to admit a fauntling of exactly Pippin's size to the outside world. And as a curious young child who loved seeing what stood behind a door, and because outside was very large, there was no denying that had those impish green eyes spotted this open portal of opportunity, he would have diverted from any path to take it.
"I think he went outside," Frodo whispered, almost to himself, transfixed with worry.
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