Chapter 3
Hey everyone. Hope you're enjoying this story and big thanks to everyone
who's reading. No fluff this time.
Keeyah, thanks for your review. Unfortunately, I have already decided the
order of the characters stories, and Boromir is the sixth chapter. It's
worth the wait though, I swear. From what I have planed, Boromir's chapter
will be the funniest one.
Ok, so Merry is eighteen, which is like a ten year old.
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"Whose turn is it tonight?" Frodo asked Gandalf as they settled down around the fire, covering up with their blankets. He very much wanted to hear another funny tale to take his mind off the dark landscape of Hollin that stretched for miles all around.
"Mine!" cried Pippin. "Gandalf, tell the one about when I--"
"Enough, Peregrin." Gandalf turned to Frodo. "I am very weary after our long hike uphill. Perhaps the next story could wait until tomorrow."
"Oh, please tell just * one * short, little story! Please?" the hobbits all begged him. Gandalf looked around. It was clear to see that, even though only the halflings voiced their pleas, the other members of the company wished for a story as well. Everyone, that is, except Boromir, who scowled at what he called a 'children's pastime', although he often sat around and listened anyway.
"Well, if everyone wants to hear a story--"
"YES!" seven voices rang back.
"All right then. I will tell about--"
"ME!" Pippin yelled. "I want to hear about--"
"Pippin! Enough!" Gandalf scolded. "I want to tell a * short * story tonight. And even though it takes you virtually no time to get * into * trouble, it often takes you a very long time to get out of it. I think that I shall tell a story about Master Meriodoc this time.
Scowling, Pippin kept quiet.
Gandalf thought for a moment. "Ah, I know the perfect tale. When Merry was a hobbit lad of about eighteen-which, although I'm sure sounds near manhood to you two," he said to Aragorn, and to Boromir, who had finally given up pouting in the cold and gathered around the fire, "it is still a very childish age for hobbits." He glanced over in Merry's direction and watched him make a silly face at his laughing cousin. "As are all the other ages, as far as hobbits are concerned," he added dryly. "Anyway, when Merry was about eighteen--"
* * * * * * * * * * *
"Da, couldn't I just try a little bit?"
Saradoc took a long puff on his pipe, blowing a jet of smoke toward the ceiling. "Merry, stop it. You * know * you're not allowed to smoke pipe-weed until you turn 25. That is the law and I'm not about to break it for you." He inhaled once again before continuing. "Besides, you wouldn't like it, son."
"YOU like it," Merry pouted.
"I'm an adult. It's different for adults." Smoke rose from his pipe like the smoke from a dragon's nostrils after it has set a village aflame. To Merry, the smoke clouds looked like half of the fun that his father was keeping from him. "No child could like pipe-weed. Now go put on your nice shirt. Gandalf is coming to visit." With that, Merry's father placed his just finished pipe on the high shelf above the fireplace that housed many other little knick-knacks, and went to prepare the tea.
Sulking, Merry stormed off toward his room when the pouch containing his father's supply of pipe-weed caught his eye. He stopped dead in his tracks. I shouldn't, he thought to himself. Even so, he continued to stare at pipe and its pouch with an eye similar to the one his young cousin got while peering into farmer Maggot's crops. " 't wouldn't be right," he muttered to himself. You're right, it wouldn't, thought the sensible Brandybuck part of his brain. If your Da found out about this, you would get a spanking for certain and likely a week of extra chores. Ah, but why should he find out? Oh yes, there it was. The Took part of his brain, the part that delighted in things such as mushroom pilfering and discovering that Pippin was coming for a visit (which always lead to things such as mushroom pilfering). Merry had been waiting for the Took part of his mind to kick in and join the argument.
He will never know! , the Took in him argued. He's only being mean. He just doesn't want to share it with you. He wants it all for himself and he will * never * give you any! Just smoke a little bit, Merry, just enough to see what all the fuss is about.
Merry's hand reached up toward the shelf, his Took side overpowering the Brandybuck.
What if you go to jail?
His hand froze. The Brandybuck side had not lost after all. That's the law, isn't it? No one under the age of 25 is to smoke pipe- weed. "What do they do to the children who do smoke it?" Merry wondered aloud. He had never bothered to find out as it was never important before. Do they send hobbits as young as me to jail? He did not wish to find out. Slowly he backed away and started toward his room.
If Pippin were here, he would be brave enough! the Took cried out, in one last attempt at victory. Merry stopped. Yes, he would take the pipe-weed without hesitation. He would not be a coward. In fact, he will likely be green with envy that he did not think of it first.
Merry sighed. The Took had won. Glancing around quickly, his young eyes darting about for any sign of his father, he grabbed the pipe and pouch and ran to his room as fast as his legs would carry him.
"So Gandalf, old friend, did you happen to pass through Bree on your journey here?" asked Saradoc, as he sat in his favorite big chair and sipped his tea.
"Why yes," answered the old wizard. "I went through there to visit a long-time friend of mine, a ranger who lives on the border."
"Uh-hu," Saradoc said, uninterested. Hobbits rarely want to hear about anything but their own affairs. "Did you happen to see any Brandybucks there? I have a sister who just moved to Bree and she was expecting a baby around this time. I would dearly love to know if I have a new niece or nephew."
"Sorry, Saradoc. I'm afraid I didn't meet any of your numerous relatives this time." He chuckled to himself. "I suppose you have more nieces and nephews than you can keep count. Poor Merry must have a terrible time learning his family tree."
Saradoc shook his head with a smile. "Oh yes, I suppose. He certainly knows his Took side well enough, anyway. Every time I turn around, he's gone to Tuckbourgh to visit that Pippin boy." He poured himself another cup of tea while he spoke. "The young Took is coming to stay with us in about a week. I'll have to be on my toes." Saradoc suddenly looked around. "Say, where is Merry anyway? I told him you were dropping by, and he never misses the chance to ask for stories of far away lands." He pulled himself out of his chair. "Excuse me. I think I'll see if I can find him."
"Merry?" Saradoc called as he knocked on his son's door, the wizard just behind him. "Merry, are you in there?" Saradoc opened the door and was greeted with quite a sight.
Merry sat on the end of his bed, his father's pipe in hand, and a small cloud of smoke rising from his surprised mouth. The leather pipe- weed bag sat next to him, partially empty and spilling out onto the bed.
Saradoc's face went slightly crimson with anger. "Merry," he said in a low and threatening voice, "get over here."
Slowly, unsteadily, Merry stood up and staggered over to his father. His thoughts were a little hazy; he wondered to himself who would speak to his father when he opened his mouth: the Brandybuck, speaking in tearful apologies, or the Took, defending himself all the way.
"Merry," Saradoc said, enraged. "You disobeyed me. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Merry opened his mouth to speak, but neither the Brandybuck nor the Took in him got the chance to voice their unclear thoughts. As soon as his mouth was open, he leaned over and vomited all over his father's shirt.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Merry turned near scarlet in the face as the fellowship laughed at the end of his story. "Well, I was still young and foolish back then," he said with an embarrassed smile.
Gandalf laughed. "Yes, yes you were. But you've grown some, haven't you." He turned to the rest of the company. "Once this little one was put to bed, we looked in the pouch. You wouldn't have believed it even if you saw it. That little sneak had smoked near a week's supply."
Aragorn let out a low whistle. "A whole week's supply? It's no wonder you got sick. I'm surprised you didn't pass out!"
"Well, he did sleep for the rest of my visit," Gandalf informed him. "But he never touched the stuff again, while he was underage at least, and don't think I didn't ask his father every time I came by."
Merry shrugged, still a little embarrassed. "I wouldn't have wanted to. It was a long time before I could even be with my Da in a room while he was smoking his pipe."
Gandalf nodded. "You certainly learned not to listen to your Took side again, save for when Pippin was with you." The old wizard yawned and climbed into his bedroll. "Now, that's enough of that," he said. "Let us all get some sleep before daylight comes."
It was not long before the only sound heard for miles was the sound of Gimli's snoring as the travelers slept soundly.
Ok, so Merry is eighteen, which is like a ten year old.
************************************************************
"Whose turn is it tonight?" Frodo asked Gandalf as they settled down around the fire, covering up with their blankets. He very much wanted to hear another funny tale to take his mind off the dark landscape of Hollin that stretched for miles all around.
"Mine!" cried Pippin. "Gandalf, tell the one about when I--"
"Enough, Peregrin." Gandalf turned to Frodo. "I am very weary after our long hike uphill. Perhaps the next story could wait until tomorrow."
"Oh, please tell just * one * short, little story! Please?" the hobbits all begged him. Gandalf looked around. It was clear to see that, even though only the halflings voiced their pleas, the other members of the company wished for a story as well. Everyone, that is, except Boromir, who scowled at what he called a 'children's pastime', although he often sat around and listened anyway.
"Well, if everyone wants to hear a story--"
"YES!" seven voices rang back.
"All right then. I will tell about--"
"ME!" Pippin yelled. "I want to hear about--"
"Pippin! Enough!" Gandalf scolded. "I want to tell a * short * story tonight. And even though it takes you virtually no time to get * into * trouble, it often takes you a very long time to get out of it. I think that I shall tell a story about Master Meriodoc this time.
Scowling, Pippin kept quiet.
Gandalf thought for a moment. "Ah, I know the perfect tale. When Merry was a hobbit lad of about eighteen-which, although I'm sure sounds near manhood to you two," he said to Aragorn, and to Boromir, who had finally given up pouting in the cold and gathered around the fire, "it is still a very childish age for hobbits." He glanced over in Merry's direction and watched him make a silly face at his laughing cousin. "As are all the other ages, as far as hobbits are concerned," he added dryly. "Anyway, when Merry was about eighteen--"
* * * * * * * * * * *
"Da, couldn't I just try a little bit?"
Saradoc took a long puff on his pipe, blowing a jet of smoke toward the ceiling. "Merry, stop it. You * know * you're not allowed to smoke pipe-weed until you turn 25. That is the law and I'm not about to break it for you." He inhaled once again before continuing. "Besides, you wouldn't like it, son."
"YOU like it," Merry pouted.
"I'm an adult. It's different for adults." Smoke rose from his pipe like the smoke from a dragon's nostrils after it has set a village aflame. To Merry, the smoke clouds looked like half of the fun that his father was keeping from him. "No child could like pipe-weed. Now go put on your nice shirt. Gandalf is coming to visit." With that, Merry's father placed his just finished pipe on the high shelf above the fireplace that housed many other little knick-knacks, and went to prepare the tea.
Sulking, Merry stormed off toward his room when the pouch containing his father's supply of pipe-weed caught his eye. He stopped dead in his tracks. I shouldn't, he thought to himself. Even so, he continued to stare at pipe and its pouch with an eye similar to the one his young cousin got while peering into farmer Maggot's crops. " 't wouldn't be right," he muttered to himself. You're right, it wouldn't, thought the sensible Brandybuck part of his brain. If your Da found out about this, you would get a spanking for certain and likely a week of extra chores. Ah, but why should he find out? Oh yes, there it was. The Took part of his brain, the part that delighted in things such as mushroom pilfering and discovering that Pippin was coming for a visit (which always lead to things such as mushroom pilfering). Merry had been waiting for the Took part of his mind to kick in and join the argument.
He will never know! , the Took in him argued. He's only being mean. He just doesn't want to share it with you. He wants it all for himself and he will * never * give you any! Just smoke a little bit, Merry, just enough to see what all the fuss is about.
Merry's hand reached up toward the shelf, his Took side overpowering the Brandybuck.
What if you go to jail?
His hand froze. The Brandybuck side had not lost after all. That's the law, isn't it? No one under the age of 25 is to smoke pipe- weed. "What do they do to the children who do smoke it?" Merry wondered aloud. He had never bothered to find out as it was never important before. Do they send hobbits as young as me to jail? He did not wish to find out. Slowly he backed away and started toward his room.
If Pippin were here, he would be brave enough! the Took cried out, in one last attempt at victory. Merry stopped. Yes, he would take the pipe-weed without hesitation. He would not be a coward. In fact, he will likely be green with envy that he did not think of it first.
Merry sighed. The Took had won. Glancing around quickly, his young eyes darting about for any sign of his father, he grabbed the pipe and pouch and ran to his room as fast as his legs would carry him.
"So Gandalf, old friend, did you happen to pass through Bree on your journey here?" asked Saradoc, as he sat in his favorite big chair and sipped his tea.
"Why yes," answered the old wizard. "I went through there to visit a long-time friend of mine, a ranger who lives on the border."
"Uh-hu," Saradoc said, uninterested. Hobbits rarely want to hear about anything but their own affairs. "Did you happen to see any Brandybucks there? I have a sister who just moved to Bree and she was expecting a baby around this time. I would dearly love to know if I have a new niece or nephew."
"Sorry, Saradoc. I'm afraid I didn't meet any of your numerous relatives this time." He chuckled to himself. "I suppose you have more nieces and nephews than you can keep count. Poor Merry must have a terrible time learning his family tree."
Saradoc shook his head with a smile. "Oh yes, I suppose. He certainly knows his Took side well enough, anyway. Every time I turn around, he's gone to Tuckbourgh to visit that Pippin boy." He poured himself another cup of tea while he spoke. "The young Took is coming to stay with us in about a week. I'll have to be on my toes." Saradoc suddenly looked around. "Say, where is Merry anyway? I told him you were dropping by, and he never misses the chance to ask for stories of far away lands." He pulled himself out of his chair. "Excuse me. I think I'll see if I can find him."
"Merry?" Saradoc called as he knocked on his son's door, the wizard just behind him. "Merry, are you in there?" Saradoc opened the door and was greeted with quite a sight.
Merry sat on the end of his bed, his father's pipe in hand, and a small cloud of smoke rising from his surprised mouth. The leather pipe- weed bag sat next to him, partially empty and spilling out onto the bed.
Saradoc's face went slightly crimson with anger. "Merry," he said in a low and threatening voice, "get over here."
Slowly, unsteadily, Merry stood up and staggered over to his father. His thoughts were a little hazy; he wondered to himself who would speak to his father when he opened his mouth: the Brandybuck, speaking in tearful apologies, or the Took, defending himself all the way.
"Merry," Saradoc said, enraged. "You disobeyed me. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Merry opened his mouth to speak, but neither the Brandybuck nor the Took in him got the chance to voice their unclear thoughts. As soon as his mouth was open, he leaned over and vomited all over his father's shirt.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Merry turned near scarlet in the face as the fellowship laughed at the end of his story. "Well, I was still young and foolish back then," he said with an embarrassed smile.
Gandalf laughed. "Yes, yes you were. But you've grown some, haven't you." He turned to the rest of the company. "Once this little one was put to bed, we looked in the pouch. You wouldn't have believed it even if you saw it. That little sneak had smoked near a week's supply."
Aragorn let out a low whistle. "A whole week's supply? It's no wonder you got sick. I'm surprised you didn't pass out!"
"Well, he did sleep for the rest of my visit," Gandalf informed him. "But he never touched the stuff again, while he was underage at least, and don't think I didn't ask his father every time I came by."
Merry shrugged, still a little embarrassed. "I wouldn't have wanted to. It was a long time before I could even be with my Da in a room while he was smoking his pipe."
Gandalf nodded. "You certainly learned not to listen to your Took side again, save for when Pippin was with you." The old wizard yawned and climbed into his bedroll. "Now, that's enough of that," he said. "Let us all get some sleep before daylight comes."
It was not long before the only sound heard for miles was the sound of Gimli's snoring as the travelers slept soundly.