37. Arrival at Brandy Hall

Pippin shifted on the tree stump so he could lean more comfortably against Merry's side. He took his thumb out of his mouth just long enough to speak.

"Is that them, Merry?" the toddler asked, indicating a blond tweenager walking along beside an old gaffer.

"No, Pippin," Merry replied. "That's just an old farmer and his lad. Can't you tell? Frodo and Bilbo won’t be wearing work clothes. Besides, Frodo has dark hair."

"Oh," Pippin said, and returned to scrutinizing the hobbits coming in and out of the north gate to Brandy Hall. There were a lot of them; Merry had said that was because it was nearing the end of the work day and hobbits were going home to their suppers. Pippin watched an old couple approach and go inside the gate, followed by a group of lasses his sisters' ages a few minutes later. Pippin laid his head on Merry's arm and went back to sucking his thumb, but his green eyes stayed open and alert. He was making a game out of trying to guess which pair was Bilbo and Frodo before Merry could tell him.

"How about them?" Another lad with an older hobbit had just come into view.

"Sorry, Pip," Merry said. "That boy isn't much older than I am! Frodo is twenty-six."

Pippin sat up slightly, his eyes widening in alarm. "Twenty-six? I didn't think he'd be so old, Merry!" Pippin had been envisioning another boy Merry's age, not some adult. He shrank against Merry's side, feeling shy.

"That's not old, Pippin," Merry laughed, but he stopped when he caught sight of his little cousin's worried face. "You're not going to go and be frightened of Frodo now, are you?" he asked, reaching over to mess up Pippin's hair.

Pippin hated it when adults ruffled his light brown hair, but somehow the way Merry did it never bothered him. He shook his head to make the curls his mother had carefully arranged fly out from his head, knowing this always made Merry laugh. "I'm not frightened," he added primly when Merry got his breath back, and Merry grinned at him.

Pippin wasn't afraid of Frodo. Well, maybe a little. He liked Merry and some of his friends, but the boys who were even older were loud and frightening, and in any case they never paid Pippin much attention when he visited Brandy Hall. Merry didn't spend much time with the older Brandybuck boys either, but he had spoken of Frodo so admiringly for as long as Pippin could remember, he felt sure this Baggins tweenager would be so extraordinary as to be downright intimidating, if he ever noticed Pippin at all.

"Don't worry, you'll like Frodo," Merry assured him, and Pippin felt a little better. "And Uncle Bilbo! You'll hear the best stories from him, you wait."

Pippin sat up straighter. He liked stories, and he knew all the children were looking forward to hearing Bilbo's, for the old hobbit was widely considered one of the best storytellers around.

"Is that them, Merry?" Pippin asked suddenly.

Merry looked and then started to laugh. "That's a lady, you silly Took!" he chortled, looking at the sour-faced old hobbitlady hustling her grandson up the path. "Can't you tell?"

"No, behind them," Pippin said impatiently. Merry was never going to let him forget that he had mistakenly addressed his Aunt Pyrimidine as 'Uncle' the week before.

Sure enough, another pair of hobbits was soon visible behind the old lady. Pippin had felt sure that these were Bilbo and Frodo; it was hard to make out details at this distance, but the boy looked older than Merry and had dark hair. Pippin knew he had guessed correctly when Merry slipped down from his perch on the tree stump and ran toward the pair, joyfully crowing "Frodo! Uncle Bilbo!"

Pippin got down too and followed more slowly, his thumb still in his mouth. He trailed shyly behind Merry and stopped when Merry launched himself at Frodo. Merry was chattering excitedly even as Frodo attempted to return the hug. Bilbo started to laugh, and Pippin liked him immediately.

When Merry finally released Frodo, Pippin reluctantly approached and tried to stay behind Merry as much as he could. He peered at Frodo with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension as he hooked the thumb that wasn't in his mouth around the back of Merry's braces.

Merry felt the tug on his trousers and pulled a panicking Pippin in front of him. "This one's a little shy," Pippin heard Merry say, but he kept his face hidden in Merry's crimson waistcoat.

"Why, you must be Peregrin Took!" Bilbo exclaimed, giving the child's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You were a good deal smaller the last time we saw you."

Pippin kept a tight grip on Merry, but turned his head to look at Bilbo. He saw a kind face full of good humour, and smiled shyly.

Bilbo chuckled. "Why don't you give me your pack, Frodo-lad, and I'll leave you lads to get reacquainted before supper."

"Thank you, Uncle."

Pippin heard Frodo shrug out of his pack and then Bilbo walked on up the road, whistling cheerfully.

"Turn around, silly Took," Merry said, laughing. "Frodo doesn't bite."

Pippin glanced briefly at the figure still standing patiently before him, and then looked up at Merry with wide green eyes. "Are you sure, Merry?" he whispered, hoping Frodo wouldn't overhear.

Merry and Frodo exchanged looks, and Pippin realized Merry's sides were shaking with suppressed laughter.

"I'm sure, Pip," Merry said finally. "Come on, let's sit down. We've still got an hour before supper." He sank down to the grass and pulled Pippin into his lap, and thus the toddler finally came face to face with the daunting Frodo.

The tweenager had dropped to the ground as well, and he sat in the grass watching Pippin.

Pippin stared. He had never seen anyone who looked like Frodo; he was more pale and slender than the average hobbit, and his russet curls were certainly not a colour Pippin was accustomed to, but there was something more. Pippin blinked. He couldn't stop looking at those eyes – they were the same colour as the sky, and they seemed to shine with a clear light as they gazed warmly at Pippin.

"Hullo, Pippin," Frodo said finally, smiling. "You don't remember me, do you?"

Pippin shook his head wordlessly. He decided he liked Frodo's voice; it was quiet and gentle, not harsh or boisterous like some of the older lads at Brandy Hall.

"Well, I remember you," Frodo continued. "You came to visit me and Bilbo when you were just a baby."

"I did?" Pippin said curiously. He scooted forward a little.

Frodo nodded. "Your family and Merry's family had come for Yule. You scampered all over the floor and tried to put everything you could reach into your mouth."

"Just like now," Merry teased, and Frodo smiled again.

Pippin slid forward a little more, out of Merry's lap, so that he was sitting on the ground in front of Frodo. The obvious warmth and easy friendship between Merry and Frodo made Pippin feel relaxed and happy, although he wasn't sure why. He liked seeing Frodo smile.

"What else did I do, Frodo?" Pippin asked shyly.

"Well, you emptied an entire jar of Marish Pippin applesauce over my bedroom floor," Frodo said as Merry giggled. "That's how you came by your pet name, you know."

Pippin didn't understand what the tweenager meant, but when Frodo extended his hands in silent invitation Pippin immediately took them and allowed himself to be pulled into Frodo's lap.

"Tell Pip what he used to call you, Frodo!" Merry said, sitting back in the grass and grinning.

"Er—Fwo. You called me 'Fwo,' Pippin," Frodo said after a brief hesitation. "You couldn't pronounce my name, I suppose."

"Merry said I used to call you 'Pretty,'" Pippin piped up, rapidly losing his shyness. "How come, Frodo?"

Pippin didn't understand why Frodo just stared at him, open-mouthed and turning slightly pink, while Merry howled with laughter.

Frodo navigated the warren of Brandy Hall with relative ease, considering it had been four years. Everything looked a little smaller than he remembered, but he'd had no trouble finding his way to the guest room he would be sharing with Bilbo, and now he was nearly at the dining hall without taking one wrong turn.

The tweenager had been sorry to leave Merry and Pippin outside; he did not have many happy memories of Brandy Hall but he was truly looking forward to spending time with his two cousins. Frodo had reluctantly extricated himself from the younger lads' eager chatter, for he knew he had to wash up before supper was served. He recalled well enough that no one would notice whether he came for supper or not, but show up covered in dirt and there would be an uproar.

Frodo smiled slightly as he manoeuvred past another gaggle of noisy hobbits. He didn't mind for himself—indeed, he had both skipped meals and gone to meals dirty on many occasions in his time living under Brandy Hill, and might have been labelled a runaway had anyone ever noticed how often he was missing—but he knew tongues would wag, and he hated the gossip. He did not want it said that Bilbo wasn't raising him properly.

Of course, that would likely be said regardless, just as the ghastly story of his parents' drowning each other was still passed around, Frodo knew. The latter was just cruel conjecture, of course, since no one had claimed to witness the accident fifteen years ago, but there was nothing Frodo could do to refute it, even if anyone would be so vulgar as to repeat it in his presence.

As to the former, Frodo didn't intend to begin this visit by giving his relations anything with which to reproach Bilbo. Well, anything else; they already thought he was mad.

Frodo chuckled ruefully at the thought, but nearly stopped in his tracks when he noticed he was about to pass Bolo Brandybuck coming in the other direction. His cousin was almost of age now, but his features had not changes so much that Frodo didn't recognize him instantly.

"Hullo, Bolo," Frodo said reluctantly.

Bolo looked startled for a moment when he saw who had greeted him, but his scowl was soon firmly back in place and he strode on without acknowledging his younger cousin.

Frodo shook his head and continued on his way. He supposed some hobbits never changed; Bolo looked just as surly and ill-tempered as ever. He certainly wouldn't have the opportunity to tie Frodo up and leave him in the hayloft this time around, however. Frodo was four years older now, and a good deal harder to intimidate.

Frodo glanced back once at Bolo's retreating form and then quickened his pace; he still had a few minutes before supper and there was something he wanted to do.

"Very good, lass," Poppy praised. "Now set the butter out and you can ring the bell for supper." Poppy smiled as the mousy little maid hurried away. The roasts were warming and ready to be eaten, so her part of the supper preparations was complete.

A footstep in the doorway caught Poppy's attention, and then she heard a "Good evening, Miss Poppy."

The cook turned quickly. "Why, Frodo Baggins!" she exclaimed in delight when she realized the identity of her visitor, and, momentarily forgetting herself, darted forward to embrace the startled tween.  Frodo didn't seem to know what to do at first, but then he awkwardly hugged her back.

Poppy abruptly recalled whom she was hugging and pulled away, wondering if Frodo was upset by her overstepping—she'd been so pleased to see him, she hadn't even thought—but one look at his puzzled face drove that thought from her mind.

"How are ye, Mr. Frodo?" Poppy asked, smiling at him a little sadly. Of course Frodo was not accustomed to being hugged; he had been without his mother and father for fifteen years now. Esmeralda and Saradoc had always meant well, but they had never had much time for their orphaned cousin. And of course, Bilbo was a silly old bachelor and probably had no idea that children needed daily hugs.

"I'm well, thank you," Frodo said. "And you?"

"Oh, pretty fair, pretty fair," she replied, eyeing him critically. "You've grown some since I saw you last, lad!"

"Have I?" asked Frodo, looking pleased.

"Aye," Poppy said with a wink. "In height if not in breadth. But we'll stuff you to the gills while you're here and soon put you right."

Frodo laughed out loud, and the sound gladdened Poppy's heart. He still had his naturally fair complexion, but there were roses in his cheeks and his blue eyes sparkled with lively humour. Poppy nodded to herself in satisfaction. She had known that mad old adventurer would do the boy good.