A/N Going out on a limb for this one… All right: I've had this story written on my hard drive for ages now, and I've decided to post it. It has some hintings of movie-verse, as you'll see, even though the ages and whatnot are book-verse, thus its posting, because I always thought the age difference between the cousins was really cute. Anywho! So now we've got my answer to the question, "Just where did Pippin hear such a sad song in the first place?" I like how it turned out, but I have a feeling the canon nuts will set into me for some infraction or other… I hope you like it!

Standard disclaimer: Watch as I shamelessly borrow characters that aren't mine!

Now without further ado…

Pippin's Song

"Bilbo's gone, isn't he?"

Merry looked up from his book to study his little cousin, weighing the significance of the question. Pippin sat, curled in a blanket, before the cozy fire that burned to keep the large Bag End sitting room warm. The young hobbit's green-gold eyes stared into the flickering firelight without blinking, as though seeking some truth from the erratic, dancing flames.

If he sought the truth of Bilbo's disappearance at The Party, he would not find it there.

Merry marked his place in the book, shutting it with a sigh. "Bilbo's been gone since September, Pip."

"Yes, he left after their birthday party. But…he's really gone, isn't he, Merry? He's not coming back. He's left the Shire and Bag End and…and you and me and all the family." And Frodo.

Would Bilbo really leave Frodo, Merry? Would he leave us?

With another gentle sigh, Merry crossed the room to sit by Pippin, pulling the little hobbit into his lap and rock him gently, smoothing and kissing the chestnut curls. "Bilbo was a…peculiar hobbit, Pippin. Do you remember when he used to tell us stories about his adventure with the dwarves and the elves and the dragon?"

Pippin nodded enthusiastically, curls flying. "Yes! He told them to me all the time, Merry, and he told the most wonderful story about trolls at his party." An unhappy sigh. "I do so miss his stories, Merry."

Merry kissed the curls again. "So do I, Pippin. But didn't you ever notice how much happier Bilbo was when he told his stories?"

The little hobbit shook his head stubbornly. "No." But Merry heard the pout in his words and smiled softly, laying his cheek against Pippin's temple.

"No? Well, do you remember how happy you always felt listening to the stories?"

A hesitant, "Yes," as though the child knew he would be led into an answer he didn't like.

"You were feeling his happiness, and it made you glad, too. Can you imagine, if he seemed so happy just telling the stories, how happy he'll be to truly be part of them again? Bilbo is supposed to travel to far places and do great things. It is part of who Bilbo is, and it would be cruel of us to deny him that, even if it means we're sad here in the Shire without him." A moment passed in thoughtful silence.

"Did you think of that all on your own, Merry?" Pippin asked, sounding awed.

"No," Merry answered softly. "It is what Frodo told me, Pippin, when I asked him if Bilbo would ever come home."

Pippin sniffled, burrowing further into Merry's warmth. "If I miss Bilbo so much, Frodo must be terribly sad. If I talked to you, and you talked to him, who's he supposed to talk to?"

Merry swallowed a lump of sorrow and worry building in his throat, managing in a harsh voice, "I don't know, Pippin. He used to be able to go to Bilbo."

But Bilbo is gone.

Then little Peregrin Took, future Thain of the Shire, popped out of his elder cousin's comforting hold. "Then I shall go to Frodo," he declared, nodding to affirm his decision. "If I talk to you and you talk to Frodo and Frodo talks to me, then we can always, always talk to each other, since I won't be leaving the Shire, and you won't be leaving the Shire, and Frodo—" The little one's words faltered as a sudden shadow darkened in his mind, filling him with a dread of the future that should never touch one so young. Without cause or reason, Pippin felt a stab of fear and loss, an ache of helplessness.

Frodo wouldn't go off into the Blue, would he? Not alone?

Merry could only stare in surprise as Pippin turned on his heel and dashed out of the room. He floundered a bit, disentangling himself from the blanket as he attempted to give chase. "Pip—!"

Pippin, for his part, burst into the study, startling very badly the master of Bag End, Mr. Frodo Baggins. Frodo sat by the window, a map laid across his lap, the fingers of his right hand just resting on a valley labeled Rivendell. Before the intrusion of his little cousin, he had gazed unseeingly out the window into the snowy night, morning glory eyes bright and wondrous as they studied something unseen. Dark hair curled in commas on pale cheeks and ivory forehead, delicate features set in the serene lines of deep thought. His usually smiling mouth was soft, tinted with sadness and almost regret. He looked, Pippin thought suddenly, like an elf from one of Bilbo's stories, a fair creature completely foreign to the world of hobbits.

Frodo would not stay in the Shire.

The little Took threw himself at his Baggins cousin, startling Frodo yet again and shattering the gentle beauty of moonlight and snow glowing on skin too pale for a proper hobbit. Frodo was suddenly real again, a normal hobbit who would live in the Shire until he died of old age in a completely traditional fashion. Bagginses could be well thought of again, could stop doing things unexpected and having adventures. Frodo could not go away on an adventure and never come home; Pippin would not let him.

"What's this, Pippin my lad?" Frodo murmured gently, in that soothing, calming voice that was his alone. He stroked the trembling Took's chaotic hair, using the other hand to rub the child's back. "Come now, Pippin, tell me what's wrong." When still the child did not answer, Frodo looked, bewildered, to Merry, who shifted a little embarrassedly in the doorway.

"We…we were talking about…well, he wanted to know if Bilbo was coming back, and…"

"Ah." Frodo's confusion melted into deep empathy. "Another little surprise comes of Bilbo's last trick, does it? I do not believe Bilbo is truly gone, Pippin," he murmured into the delicately pointed ear not pressed into his stomach. "He has merely had his fill of waiting for more dwarves. This has been coming for a while. Bilbo is with the elves again. Once you have lived with elves, you see, it is very difficult to go back to living any other way. Or so Bilbo has told me."

"You won't go live with elves, will you, Frodo?" Pippin begged, face still buried in his considerably elder cousin's stomach. "There has to be a Baggins under the Hill. That's what Bilbo told me."

Frodo smiled, planting a kiss in Pippin's curls. "There will always be a Baggins under the Hill," he agreed, "and I won't go to live with the elves. Not while my troublesome cousins still need me. Perhaps I should not have invited you to stay through Yule with me, though," he mused further, petting Pippin's hair absently. "It has upset you so."

"I'm not upset," Pippin protested, pulling away just enough to frown severely. "I just had a question for Merry, and then he told me you gave him the answer he gave me, so it made me want to give you someone to give you answers, only then I got here and I don't have any answers to give you because you don't have any questions. But I'm not upset!"

Frodo decided to give the answer a puzzling through later. For the moment, he laughed a little, pulling Pippin into his lap. "Come in, Merry! Join the party." Merry sat by Frodo's chair, comforted when the elder hobbit began to smooth his curls as he smoothed Pippin's. Merry didn't think he would ever be too old to let Frodo smooth his hair.

After a while spent in comfortable silence, Pippin asked, "What do you think Bilbo's doing for Yule this year?"

Merry thought the question terribly unkind to ask, but Frodo only laughed softly again. "I suppose he's spending it with the elves in Rivendell. That was his destination, you know. What do elves do for Yule is a better question, one I imagine can be answered by saying they sing."

"Sing?" Pippin echoed, saving Merry the trouble.

"Yes," Frodo agreed. "Elves sing all day and all night, according to Bilbo. They give each other songs as presents for birthdays and Yule and weddings and every occasion."

"Like mathoms!" Pippin cheered.

"They are similar, I suppose," Frodo laughed. "If you look at it correctly."

The idea excited Pippin terribly. "Will you give me a song for a present, Frodo?" he begged, sitting up in his cousin's hold. "I haven't had a present in ages! Can I have a song for a present now?"

"Pippin," Merry scolded. "You got a present not two days ago!"

"See?" The small hobbit sounded offended. "Two whole days!"

Frodo laughed again, shaking his head. He soothed Merry by stroking his curls even as he pulled Pippin close again. "I suppose I could give you a song, Pippin, if you promised to go to bed straight away afterwards. It is getting very late for young hobbits."

Pippin pouted at being called young but agreed anyway.

"All right." Frodo shifted slightly, thinking. "What sort of song do you want?"

"One from Bilbo's stories," the child prompted eagerly. "One that he could have sung while traveling."

"The road goes ever on and on," Frodo sang softly, wistfully, and Merry thought perhaps Pippin had picked the wrong category.

"Not that song. A new song, Frodo! A song just for me. A Pippin-traveling song, for when I start my adventures like Bilbo!"

Silence stole over them, and Merry wished desperately that Pippin had picked a lighter category. Any other category.

"A song just for Pippin," Frodo murmured, blue eyes trailing to the window again. "For his adventure. All right, Pippin."

Frodo began to sing, voice filling Bag End and spilling out, trailing softly into the moonlight night.

Home is behind, the world ahead

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadow, to the edge of night

Till the starts are all alight

Mist and Shadow

Cloud and Shade

All shall fade

All shall fade

"There is your song, Pippin," Frodo sighed, standing with the child bundled in his arms. "Now it is bedtime."

Pippin was so quiet, Frodo thought him asleep already, so he tucked him into bed, kissed his forehead, and returned to his study. Merry stayed up not much later, excusing himself before slipping away to his room, where he found Pippin huddled under his blankets, just as Merry had expected. The Brandybuck crawled in with his Took cousin, nestling with him as they both sought comfort from the looming, naked truth now facing them.

Frodo would not stay in the Shire.

Whatever his destiny, whatever called him, whatever in his blood that gave him such dark hair and light eyes, he would not stay with them. Already something drew him away, summoned him to a future that could not be long delayed. When that time came, Merry and Pippin would have to be prepared. Wherever Frodo went, he would not slip away alone, like Bilbo. Wherever Frodo went, Merry and Pippin would go with him. Here or there, left or right, they would walk with him always.

Even to the end of the world.

A/N Please drop a note and let me know what you think. I debated long and hard before posting this thing, and it'd be nice to know if I did the right thing or if I should have just let the whole thing rot on my computer forever. At least let me know if anyone got the "right or left" reference, which I thought was a clever hint at the movie… Ah, bah! There you have it, anyway. Thanks for stopping by!