Anyone looking down on Bag End late that afternoon would have seen a peculiar sight: Three Hobbits were staggering up the walk. The two taller Hobbits were supporting a smaller Hobbit between them. They were both red in the face from exertion, while the smaller one looked slightly white around the mouth, and all three were covered with dirt, grass-stains, and dried smears of what looked to be applesauce. To add to their startling appearance, the stockiest Hobbit of the three had a bloody cloth wrapped around his hand, and had inadvertently decorated his companions with gory smudges from head to foot.
Sam had been sweeping grass clippings off the walk, and now he looked up. The broom fell from his hands. "Save us!" He gasped.
"Steady, Sam!" Frodo said. "Don't you go fainting away on us now; we've got our hands full at the moment."
"It's not as bad as it looks," Merry said. "I just had a little accident, and Pip has had a little too much sun."
"A troll fell on me," Pippin said, with woozy good cheer. His memory was a little fuzzy as to what exactly had happened to him, and how he had gotten to this point. He had a dim notion that he might have been carried over Merry's shoulder part of the way, not unlike a sack of laundry. He frowned at Merry accusingly. "And Merry dropped me on my head."
This much was true. During an early attempt by Frodo and Merry to carry him, Merry's hands had shaken so badly that he had dropped his end of the load. "Poor old Pip!" Merry said. "He's out of his head, I'm afraid."
Sam held the door open and they all went in. The interior of Bag End was dim and blessedly cooler than out of doors. "Let's put him on the sofa," Frodo said, steering them toward the parlor.
Unfortunately, the better part of the sofa was taken up by Lobelia, her chin sunken onto her chest and snoring gently, her bonnet askew. A cup of cold tea was at her elbow. Frodo looked at Sam, who blushed red and muttered, "I'm dreadful sorry, Mr. Frodo. I did my best to fend her off, but she said she'd wait, so I let her in and gave her a cup of tea."
Frodo sighed. "You did just the right thing, Sam. It would have been impolite to let her roast on the doorstep." He cleared his throat. "Good afternoon, Cousin Lobelia!"
Lobelia awoke with a startled snort and pushed her bonnet out of her eyes. "Good heavens! Samwise said you had gone for a walk, but you look as though you've been through the wars!" She struggled up from the sofa and gave Pip a not altogether ungentle poke in the chest with her finger. "You're not looking so well, young Hobbit. Serves you right, gallivanting about in the hot sun. How do you feel?"
"Sick," Pippin admitted. And embarrassed, he might have added. Swooning into a bed of rotten apples was not at all what he had planned for the day.
"Sweet peppermint tea is what you need!" Lobelia said. "Settle your stomach! Cool tea, mind you! Nothing hot, and no spirits, either!" Sam and Merry looked at each other, and then at Frodo, who shrugged. Lobelia seemed to be taking charge of the situation. "Well, what are you all standing about for? Get the lad to bed while I make some tea. Come along, Samwise!"
Sam glanced at Frodo somewhat desperately, but there was no help there. He sighed. "Yes, Missus."
"Off we go again, Pip," Frodo said. "You can have my old room."
"Ah no, are we moving again?" Pippin groaned. He had a terrible headache. "Can't I just lie down here?"
"There, there, Pip," Merry said. He still felt guilty for dropping Pippin's head in the dirt. "Just a little further on and you can rest. We'll get you cleaned up and a nice, cool cloth for your head."
"Keep the troll out of the room," Pippin mumbled. "Talks too loud." Merry wasn't sure if Pippin's mind was still addled or if he was talking about Lobelia.
~~~~~~~~
Pippin was tidied up and made to drink some tea, then put to bed with a cool, damp cloth over his eyes. The other Hobbits had then retired to the kitchen for a bite to eat and a well-deserved drink to settle their nerves. "To the little lad!" Lobelia said, raising her glass. "May he feel better soon, the poor little dear." She seemed to have developed a fondness for Pippin.
"Here, here!" Frodo said. Never underestimate the power of a pair of big, green, sorrowful eyes, he thought, smiling wickedly over the rim of his glass at Merry and Sam. "You have been a great help to me today, Cousin Lobelia, and I thank you. Will you being staying for supper?"
Sam choked on his brandy and Merry patted him on the back distractedly. His hand-now bound in a clean bandage-had been expertly, if rather roughly tended by Lobelia, who had insisted on doing it, and it was still stinging. And Lobelia had rapped his knuckles sharply with a teaspoon when he had reached for a blackberry cobbler on the table afterwards. "For the invalid!" She had barked. "He'll need to build up his strength!" Please say no, oh please, please, Merry thought.
"No, thank you!" Lobelia said, banging her glass down on the table. "I must be going; Lotho will be expecting me. But first I should like another look at the poor little lad."
So they trooped to Frodo's room. Pippin was curled up on his side, facing toward the door, the cloth covering everything but his mouth and his nose, the tip of which was badly sunburned. He was breathing deeply and evenly and seemed to be asleep. "Poor little dear!" Lobelia stooped and patted his head. "He's far too thin, but not everyone can be a big, strapping lad like my Lotho, I suppose."
Merry choked back a giggle, and Sam snorted. Lobelia's son, Lotho, was short and rotund, 'strapping' only to Lobelia, and he hadn't been a 'lad' for a number of years. Frodo gave them a warning look. Lobelia stood up and settled her bonnet on her head. "Well, now I must be off! Escort me, Samwise!"
Sam looked at Frodo with big, pleading eyes. "I'm sure Sam has some chores to do," Frodo said, taking her by the arm. Poor Sam had suffered enough for one day. "I'll see you home and we'll have a nice little chat on the way."
"Indeed we will!" Lobelia huffed. "I have a thing or two to say to you about the state of affairs around here, and how a proper young gentlehobbit ought to behave!" She looked around. "Dash it all, now where has my parasol got to?"
Sam saw his chance for escape. "You must have left it in the kitchen, Missus. I'll go fetch it." Sam wouldn't have dared to accuse a Lady of petty thievery to her face, but he reminded himself to check inside her parasol before he handed it over. The last time she had visited Bag End she had managed to make off with two silver serving forks and a ladle.
Lobelia and Frodo left the room. Lobelia's voice came through loud and clear as she gave various instructions about Pippin's care, but Frodo's voice was no more than a polite murmur. There was more low conversation with Sam in the Parlor, then the front door opened and closed. Soon Merry heard Sam in the kitchen, no doubt tidying up the mess from dinner and washing up the brandy glasses. Merry sighed with relief and looked at Pippin. He reached out and gently touched his hair. Poor Pip. Well, he'd be right as rain in a day or so; he was a tough little nut to crack. Merry picked up the empty teacup and saucer from the nightstand.
"Is she gone?"
Merry squawked and nearly dropped the teacup. Pippin lifted the cloth and peeked out. "You little faker!" Merry cried. "We thought you were asleep!"
"I was asleep," Pippin said, squeezing his eyes shut. "And I would still be sleeping-that is, if certain Hobbits didn't stand around me clucking and fussing like a bunch of hens. And would you please keep your voice down? My head is splitting."
Merry said, in a much lower tone of voice, "How are you feeling?"
"I'm alright," Pippin said. "My head aches and I feel worn out, that's all. How's your hand?"
"Sore. Lobelia tended it, and she nearly killed me to cure me." Merry made a pained face. "Be thankful that you escaped her clutches, Peregrin Took."
Pippin giggled, but then his face changed and he looked as though he might cry.
"I've ruined everything. I know you and Frodo had plans for this evening, and I've gone and spoiled them. I'm sorry."
Merry laughed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Now, don't be silly. You haven't spoiled anything. This just gives me an excuse to stay on here at Bag End for a few more days; I'm sure my father can spare me from Brandy Hall for that long. As a matter of fact, first thing tomorrow, I'll send a letter to your parents, telling them that you're not feeling well, so you're staying with Frodo for a bit longer, too. And then tomorrow evening, or whenever you feel up to it, you and I, and Frodo, and Freddy and Folco, can all go down to the Green Dragon and have a good time. How does that sound?"
"Wonderful," Pippin sighed. He had a sudden, frightening image of his mother and all three of his sisters, with their numerous and noisy offspring, descending on Bag End with bowls of chicken soup. His eyes widened and he sat up. "But don't make it sound too serious!"
Merry laughed again. "I certainly won't! Your mother would have my head if she thought I had let you get sunstroke, and I like my head right where it is, thank you very much."
Pippin sighed again, this time with relief, and rolled over to face the open window. He yawned and his eyelids drooped. Clouds were building on the horizon, and a cool breeze blew in over the windowsill, bringing the taste of dust and the smell of the rain, faint and far away. Merry pounded a pillow until it was just the right shape to support his back, and then stretched out with his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes and thought of the now defenseless blackberry cobbler, sitting on the table in the kitchen, cowering under a red-checked napkin. I'll just sit here until Pip nods off, Merry thought, smiling. Then little blackberry cobbler, you are mine, all mineā¦
**************
Tathar: Awww, you're so sweet to say such nice things about my stories! I'm glad somebody took a look at 'A Path With No Returning'. It's not great literature, but I sure cried buckets while I was writing it, and I'm happy to see it moved someone the way it moved me. Thanks!
