2. Hiccup Two: Bedlam in Bag End
Frodo looked up from his writing-desk at a very flustered Sam. They were expecting Merry, Pippin, Rosie, and Fatty for dinner, and Sam had spent the day preparing what was beginning to look like a banquet, even by hobbit standards.
“Sorry Sam, no,” he replied, wondering how in Middle-Earth he would know the whereabouts of anything in Sam’s kitchen- Bag End may be his, but the kitchen had belonged to Sam even before they had left for the Quest of Mount Doom. He couldn’t help smiling as his friend walked off, muttering under his breath about walking vegetables. It was a very rare occasion when the son of Hamfast misplaced anything, and Frodo usually enjoyed seeing Sam flustered every now and then instead of him
Someone knocked at the door, then found that it was unlocked and walked right in. “Master Holdwine has entered Bag End!” announced Merry, swaggering in and displaying the White Horse upon Green embroidered on his tunic (a gift from Éomer). In the pantry Sam gave a loud yelp, shouting “Merry! Goodness, you weren’t suppose to arrive for an hour!”
“There’s a first for everything, Sam,” Frodo called with a grin, making one more pen-stroke on the parchment before getting up and embracing his cousin. “I still can’t get over the fact that you’re a couple of inches taller than me now, Merry, though you and Pippin had been the shorter of us four.”
Merry grinned. “My da says that it will help me when I become Master of Buckland, because then I can bodily throw out anyone who doesn’t see eye-to-eye with me.” The sound of a large pile of sundry crashing to the floor came from the pantry. “Say, is Sam all right? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s looking for something.”
Frodo laughed. “Yes, he’s misplaced some carrots.”
Merry whistled. “I s’ppose there is a first for everything. Sam, you managed to cross into Mordor carrying your cooking gear- how on Middle-Earth did you lose carrots?”
“Anyone mention carrots?”
The two hobbits turned to find the fourth member of the Travelers coming into the study. It appeared as if, as always, Merry and Pippin had coordinated their clothing, for Pippin was proudly wearing a tunic with the White Tree upon Black (a gift, strangely enough, from Gimli).
“Sam’s looking for some,” replied Merry.
“And a little help would be welcome!” Sam’s voice was rather muffled, like he was buried under something (which turned out to be the sundry).
An hour, a pantry-excavation and four very worn-out hobbits later, the vegetables were still missing. The hobbits searched separate rooms and hallways first, then crisscrossed and re-checked each others’ search areas. Frodo realised that the seemingly fruitless search was bringing out a side of his friends that he’d never seen before, when he overheard guttural sounds emanating from Pippin when they passed each another in a narrow corridor. Frodo knew enough of other languages to tell that it was in dwarven, and by the look on the hobbit’s face less than complimentary, but where had he learned it?
“Pippin, if you don’t stop asking for a dragon to lay waste to all the potato fields on Middle-Earth and turn all of Sam’s ancestors into trees so you can hew at them with Durin’s axe, I’m going to knock you out and leave you in the Old Forest for the trees.,” shouted Merry from an adjoining room. “Maybe then they’d leave Buckland alone.”
“More likely they’ll flee and take up shelter in Buckland after having to put up with him for a few days,” called Frodo with a laugh.
“If you two go on like that I’ll stuff Sam’s carrots down your throats when I find ‘em!” retorted Pippin
“Did anyone say carrots?” said Sam from another room.
“No, Sam, we were talking about the Old Forest and Pippin’s dragon.”
“Pippin’s dragon?” A pause. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t know that Mr. Pippin likes trees so much.”
Laughter hooted from one room with the sound of something large hitting something fluffy. “Merry, if you damage my bed you’ll be enjoying the Old Forest with Pippin!” Frodo shouted down the hallway.
“Mr. Merry too?”
Frodo sighed, fighting the urge to laugh even as a rather unpleasant mental image appeared in his mind. Shuddering, he determinedly tried to think of something else. “No, Sam, you see-“
He didn’t get to finish his sentence, for the sound of something crashing came from his bedroom. Fearing what Merry might have done to his beautiful feather mattress, he stormed up the hallway and into his bedroom, Pippin hot on his heels and cursing in dwarven with renewed vigour.
Just then Fatty and Rosie arrived, and were greeted by a red-faced Sam.
“Hullo, Sam,” said Fatty cheerily. “Where is Frodo?” he asked, eyeing the vacant writing-desk he always found Frodo in. His question was answered by a loud yell from Frodo’s bedroom.
“Merry, get out of my bed!”
“Ouch! You needn’t be so rough, Frodo.” Someone cursed loudly. “And keep your dragon to yourself, Pip!”
“Ouch! That was uncalled-for, Merry! Get down now, or I’ll force-feed you a dragon!”
“Ouch! Now what was that for, Pip! And I think I should have a talk with Gimli about the things he teaches young hobbits…”
Clearing his throat, Sam tried to shake the mental image forming in his mind. “Mister Merry and Mister Pippin arrived early, and helped with… preparing dinner,” he said shakily. “Let’s go to the table, shall we?”
“Hey, I found it! Sam, I found your carrots- looks like Frodo’s been hogging them all along!”
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.