Title: Berry Picking
Author: Angie
Summary: Little hobbits having fun in the sun and some angst.
SR 1400. Which makes Frodo 32: Sam 20: Merry 18 and Pippin is a grubby,
squirmy, skinny 10 years old.
No ownership, no rights, no profits etc etc
Thanks to Maura for betaring.
It was one of those perfect summer days – one of the ones which go on forever and during which you are immortal. It was also the sort of day upon which it was impossible for four young hobbits holidaying together at Bag End to do nothing else other than go raspberry picking.
They had a good system going. Frodo and Sam, being the tallest, tackled the tops of the bushes. Merry, being the stoutest, and most impervious to nettles, did the middle and Pip, being the smallest and lithest, ploughed in under the thick growth and was invisible but for his furry feet and the occasional berry-juicy hand which stuck out at intervals to drop a handful to ripe gatherings into one pail or another.
Sam picked on stoically, never minding the odd wasp. Frodo also worked diligently but seemed to have a habit of finding the hidden brambles and getting caught on them and so the elder hobbit's picking was punctuated with the odd dwarvish curse and a pause to untangle himself.
Needless to say all four hobbits were having a grand time. The sun was hot on their backs, the bees serenaded their work and a fair quantity of fruit vanished into mouths. Even so the pails were getting nicely filled.
They had worked nicely down one row and were nearly at the end, where the plum orchard started. Some of the tree roots had thrust far out and churned up the ground around the raspberry canes. It was treacherous going if you were not looking where you put your feet on the uneven path.
Frodo hummed happily along to himself and soon found a hobbit chorus for one of Bilbo's songs.
"Let's finish this row and have lunch," Frodo decided. This suggestion was greeted with a round of approving cheers. Lunch was waiting for them in the shade by the stream and a jug of cider was resting in the waters themselves to cool off.
"Hey ho to the bottle I go..." sang out Pippin from somewhere further along the row and deep during in the last set of canes. His furry feet beat time with his song, though if the precocious Pippin had been caught any where near alcohol it was more likely to be a case of 'To bed I go', and without any supper at that.
Frodo was reaching for a particularly full looking fruit, dark with ripeness when there was a yelp, a tearing scrabbling noise and a cry of fright from under the bushes.
"What the..." Frodo heard Merry cry. "Pip?"
Frodo hopped back out of the raspberry bushes and tried to see what was happening. Merry stood on the path, a pail of dark fruit kicked over by his feet. Sam was straightening up looking confused, and of Pip's large dirty feet there was no sign.
"Pip?" Merry called again. "Where are you?"
There was no answer.
"Pippin! If this is one of your jokes we will go and have lunch without you," Frodo added.
"No! O, help!" came a muffled cry from... Frodo looked round.. from some where below their feet.
"Sounds like he's under that last bush," said Sam with a frown between his brows.
"I can't see him...." Merry ducked under. "What on earth....?!"
"Help! Merry!"
"Oh my goodness." Sam had pushed Merry out of the way and was bending down by the last bush. The trouble was apparent to all of them now. Around the last cane and hidden from sight was a large gaping hole in the ground, half beneath the routs of a plum tree and half buried in the raspberry bush. And out of this hole were stuck a pair of wildly waving hobbit feet.
"It's a badger's set!" Sam, exclaimed "Mr Pippin's fallen down it."
"Get me out!" came a muffled cry.
Laughing Merry took hold of the mucky ankles that were all that was visible of his little cousin and pulled. He took a breath and pulled again. And nothing happened.
Sam took over and, back straight and knees bent took a firm hold of Pippin's ankles and heaved.
"Owwwwww!" yelped Pippin. "Owwwww!"
Sam sat back. "Well, he's fair stuck and no mistake."
"Stuck!" Frodo repeated.
"Stuck!" came a muffled echo from underground.
"What if the badger comes back?" Merry asked.
"What if he's back already?" Frodo looked horrified.
Sam stood up. "This hole's not been used for a half year. Look at all that bramble growth. No self respecting brock would leave his front door like that."
Pip kicked his foot again.
"Hold still Pip," Frodo yelled. "You'll only wedge yourself in further."
"Get me out!" yelled Pippin, his voice oddly distorted. "I want out!"
"We'll need a shovel," Sam said practically.
"You and Merry go and fetch one, and see if you can get some help," Frodo directed. "I'll stay with Pip."
Merry looked torn but when Sam set off purposefully he scampered after him.
Frodo sat on the ground next to Pip's feet.
A while passed in silence.
"Are you all right in there Pip?"
"No," came the reply. "It smells."
"We'll have you out in a jiffy."
"And it's dark."
Frodo reached out and rested a hand on one of Pip's ankles. "I'm here with you."
"But you're in the sunshine."
"Then," said Frodo compassionately. "I will close my eyes and be in the dark too."
Frodo lay down and rested his head near to the opening of the set.
"What if I fall down further?"
"I've got your foot," Frodo tightened his grasp.
Silence again for a while.
"Frodo?"
"Yes Pip."
"Can you tell me a story?"
"Certainly dear heart. Which one would you like to hear?"
Pip seemed to consider for a moment and his toes curled. "I don't mind. Only not the one about Gollum; or spiders; or barrels."
Despite himself Frodo smiled.
Sam reached Bag End and went straight to the tool shed with Merry in tow. He found two strong shovels, and for good measure added a length of rope.
He was just turning back to the road when Bilbo appeared from the kitchen door and hailed him. "What ho, Sam! You forget the picnic basket."
"It's Pip!" burst out Merry. "He's fallen down a badger's hole."
Frodo stopped telling his tale and looked up at the small procession winding its way down the row of raspberry canes. Bilbo came first, holding a shovel, then Sam and Merry side by side. Behind them were the Gaffer and Hamfast.
"Pip?" Frodo called, but there was no reply. "Pip. Help is here Pip?"
Frodo jumped to his feet and waved the others on. "Hurry up. He's not talking to me!"
It was the Gamgees who arrived first and set their shovels to the mound that rose above the hole. They took of the top layer of grass and set to carefully but quickly to demolished the badger set.
White-faced Merry and Frodo stood together, holding on to each other.
Slowly the dirt-covered form of Pippin was revealed. First his legs, then the rather dirty white of his shirt, and finally his curls, covered in earth and bits of dried leaves and twigs.
Frodo and Merry were one on either side of him in an instant, turning him over, brushing dirt from his face. "Is he dead?" Merry squeaked.
Frodo sat back on his heels. Pippin lay on his front now, and a snore issued from him. He was fast asleep.
end
It was one of those perfect summer days – one of the ones which go on forever and during which you are immortal. It was also the sort of day upon which it was impossible for four young hobbits holidaying together at Bag End to do nothing else other than go raspberry picking.
They had a good system going. Frodo and Sam, being the tallest, tackled the tops of the bushes. Merry, being the stoutest, and most impervious to nettles, did the middle and Pip, being the smallest and lithest, ploughed in under the thick growth and was invisible but for his furry feet and the occasional berry-juicy hand which stuck out at intervals to drop a handful to ripe gatherings into one pail or another.
Sam picked on stoically, never minding the odd wasp. Frodo also worked diligently but seemed to have a habit of finding the hidden brambles and getting caught on them and so the elder hobbit's picking was punctuated with the odd dwarvish curse and a pause to untangle himself.
Needless to say all four hobbits were having a grand time. The sun was hot on their backs, the bees serenaded their work and a fair quantity of fruit vanished into mouths. Even so the pails were getting nicely filled.
They had worked nicely down one row and were nearly at the end, where the plum orchard started. Some of the tree roots had thrust far out and churned up the ground around the raspberry canes. It was treacherous going if you were not looking where you put your feet on the uneven path.
Frodo hummed happily along to himself and soon found a hobbit chorus for one of Bilbo's songs.
"Let's finish this row and have lunch," Frodo decided. This suggestion was greeted with a round of approving cheers. Lunch was waiting for them in the shade by the stream and a jug of cider was resting in the waters themselves to cool off.
"Hey ho to the bottle I go..." sang out Pippin from somewhere further along the row and deep during in the last set of canes. His furry feet beat time with his song, though if the precocious Pippin had been caught any where near alcohol it was more likely to be a case of 'To bed I go', and without any supper at that.
Frodo was reaching for a particularly full looking fruit, dark with ripeness when there was a yelp, a tearing scrabbling noise and a cry of fright from under the bushes.
"What the..." Frodo heard Merry cry. "Pip?"
Frodo hopped back out of the raspberry bushes and tried to see what was happening. Merry stood on the path, a pail of dark fruit kicked over by his feet. Sam was straightening up looking confused, and of Pip's large dirty feet there was no sign.
"Pip?" Merry called again. "Where are you?"
There was no answer.
"Pippin! If this is one of your jokes we will go and have lunch without you," Frodo added.
"No! O, help!" came a muffled cry from... Frodo looked round.. from some where below their feet.
"Sounds like he's under that last bush," said Sam with a frown between his brows.
"I can't see him...." Merry ducked under. "What on earth....?!"
"Help! Merry!"
"Oh my goodness." Sam had pushed Merry out of the way and was bending down by the last bush. The trouble was apparent to all of them now. Around the last cane and hidden from sight was a large gaping hole in the ground, half beneath the routs of a plum tree and half buried in the raspberry bush. And out of this hole were stuck a pair of wildly waving hobbit feet.
"It's a badger's set!" Sam, exclaimed "Mr Pippin's fallen down it."
"Get me out!" came a muffled cry.
Laughing Merry took hold of the mucky ankles that were all that was visible of his little cousin and pulled. He took a breath and pulled again. And nothing happened.
Sam took over and, back straight and knees bent took a firm hold of Pippin's ankles and heaved.
"Owwwwww!" yelped Pippin. "Owwwww!"
Sam sat back. "Well, he's fair stuck and no mistake."
"Stuck!" Frodo repeated.
"Stuck!" came a muffled echo from underground.
"What if the badger comes back?" Merry asked.
"What if he's back already?" Frodo looked horrified.
Sam stood up. "This hole's not been used for a half year. Look at all that bramble growth. No self respecting brock would leave his front door like that."
Pip kicked his foot again.
"Hold still Pip," Frodo yelled. "You'll only wedge yourself in further."
"Get me out!" yelled Pippin, his voice oddly distorted. "I want out!"
"We'll need a shovel," Sam said practically.
"You and Merry go and fetch one, and see if you can get some help," Frodo directed. "I'll stay with Pip."
Merry looked torn but when Sam set off purposefully he scampered after him.
Frodo sat on the ground next to Pip's feet.
A while passed in silence.
"Are you all right in there Pip?"
"No," came the reply. "It smells."
"We'll have you out in a jiffy."
"And it's dark."
Frodo reached out and rested a hand on one of Pip's ankles. "I'm here with you."
"But you're in the sunshine."
"Then," said Frodo compassionately. "I will close my eyes and be in the dark too."
Frodo lay down and rested his head near to the opening of the set.
"What if I fall down further?"
"I've got your foot," Frodo tightened his grasp.
Silence again for a while.
"Frodo?"
"Yes Pip."
"Can you tell me a story?"
"Certainly dear heart. Which one would you like to hear?"
Pip seemed to consider for a moment and his toes curled. "I don't mind. Only not the one about Gollum; or spiders; or barrels."
Despite himself Frodo smiled.
Sam reached Bag End and went straight to the tool shed with Merry in tow. He found two strong shovels, and for good measure added a length of rope.
He was just turning back to the road when Bilbo appeared from the kitchen door and hailed him. "What ho, Sam! You forget the picnic basket."
"It's Pip!" burst out Merry. "He's fallen down a badger's hole."
Frodo stopped telling his tale and looked up at the small procession winding its way down the row of raspberry canes. Bilbo came first, holding a shovel, then Sam and Merry side by side. Behind them were the Gaffer and Hamfast.
"Pip?" Frodo called, but there was no reply. "Pip. Help is here Pip?"
Frodo jumped to his feet and waved the others on. "Hurry up. He's not talking to me!"
It was the Gamgees who arrived first and set their shovels to the mound that rose above the hole. They took of the top layer of grass and set to carefully but quickly to demolished the badger set.
White-faced Merry and Frodo stood together, holding on to each other.
Slowly the dirt-covered form of Pippin was revealed. First his legs, then the rather dirty white of his shirt, and finally his curls, covered in earth and bits of dried leaves and twigs.
Frodo and Merry were one on either side of him in an instant, turning him over, brushing dirt from his face. "Is he dead?" Merry squeaked.
Frodo sat back on his heels. Pippin lay on his front now, and a snore issued from him. He was fast asleep.
end