Clover picked up her pace as she trotted down the lane toward Hobbiton.
Dusk was fading to twilight. The lass had spent far more time at her
Thinking Rock than she'd intended. If she didn't hurry, Mother would be
angry. More than that, Bilbo could be worsening. He could be dead by now!
Suddenly worried, Clover began to run.
The sky darkened, and worry inched toward panic. She ran down the familiar lane, not really looking where she was going. Her thoughts were centered on Bag End and Uncle Bilbo, so she did not notice the small figure she knocked over as she brushed past.
"Hey!" the hobbit lad cried, picking himself up and dusting himself off. He glared at his assailant, recognizing the distinctive run of his best girl cousin. A plot for revenge sprang fully-formed into the little lad's mind. Without pausing to think, he took off after Clover. The instant he was close enough, he pounced on her back.
She went down with a yelp, and came up swinging. The lad laughed, still clinging to her back. "Gotcha, Clover!" he giggled in her ear.
"Merry!" Clover shouted, prying the boy off her back and flipping him over her shoulders. He somersaulted in the air, landed on his feet, and bowed, grinning.
"Been practicing that for a month," he commented.
"What are you doing in Hobbiton?" Clover demanded. She glared down at Merry, hands on her hips.
"Mum sent me to your house to get me out of her hair," he replied, his grin turning mischievous.
Clover sighed. "What'd you do now?"
Merry stared at his toes and muttered "Overturned a butter churn chasing Pippin"
"Mer-ry!" Clover scolded, "churning butter is hard work!"
"I know," he said ruefully. "Mum made me churn a new batch. Then she sent me here."
"Serves you right. Is the baby with you?" Though Pippin was old enough to both talk and walk, as he gleefully informed everybody, Clover still thought of him as the baby.
Merry shook his head. "Nah, Mum sent him home. Said we needed time apart."
Clover sighed in relief. Though as they grew older it became increasingly difficult to separate them, she still preferred to deal with Meriadoc and Peregrin one at a time. Two of them was just too much, especially now.
"Why are you out so late?" Clover asked, to keep her thoughts from wandering back to Bilbo and Frodo.
"Uncle Marmaduke said I was making him nuts, and to go find something to do. So I came outside for a walk," the younger hobbit replied. "Why isn't Aunt Citrine home?" he asked, mostly to prevent Clover from asking what he'd been doing to make her father nuts.
Clover didn't even notice the lad's pseudo-confession. "Mother is needed elsewhere right now. I am, too, actually, so I must leave you. Try not to destroy anything else," she said, turning to continue on her way.
"Clover, that doesn't answer my question! Where's Auntie needed? And where're you going? And what's all the fuss about, anyway? Everybody in town's in a tither about Bilbo being sick. Bilbo can't be sick, he never gets sick," Merry pestered, trotting after his cousin. He sensed a mystery, and if there was one thing he loved, it was getting to the bottom of something mysterious.
Clover turned so abruptly that little Merry ran into her. She stared down at her cousin for several seconds, chewing her lip while she tried to decide what to tell him. In the end, she concluded that he was plenty old enough to hear the truth. "Bilbo is indeed sick, little cousin. Very sick, and nobody knows what's wrong with him!"
Merry blanched. Like Clover, like Frodo, he's always taken Bilbo's good health completely for granted. It was just one of those constants of life, like the sun rising in the east every morning or things always falling down if you dropped them.
"But..but...Bilbo CAN'T get sick! He just can't!" he protested with a child's logic. Bilbo had never in Merry's life been sick, therefore Bilbo could not get sick. It was simple, straightforward, and suddenly very wrong.
While Frodo was her most irritating cousin, Merry was easily her favorite. Clover couldn't stand to see him so upset, but neither could she lie to him. She kneeled down and gathered the boy into her arms. "Oh, Merry, I'm sorry, but Bilbo is very sick indeed. What's worse, Mother doesn't know what's wrong with him!"
Merry threw his arms around Clover and clung tightly. "How can Auntie Citrine not know what's wrong? She knows everything about every illness ever!" he said.
"I thought that too, but I'm afraid we're both wrong. Nobody really knows what's happened to Bilbo, only that he's stricken with some fell disease. I wish I DID know what was wrong, so I help Mother could cure him!" Clover replied.
Merry pulled himself out of Clover's grasp. He looked at his cousin, obviously thinking. "You're going to Bag End, aren't you, to see Bilbo? I want to come, too," he declare.
"Merry, I don't think.." Clover began.
"I want to see Bilbo," Merry interrupted. "And if I know Frodo, he needs some cheering up, too," he continued.
There really was nothing Clover could say to that. Merry was completely correct; Frodo DID need cheering up, and she was obviously not the one to do it. Merry had always been close to Frodo. Perhaps he would succeed where she had failed so spectacularly.
"Oh, all right. You'll just follow me anyway, so you may as well come too," Clover caved.
"Too right!" Merry grinned, taking Clover's hand. "Let's go see if we can help our cousins."
Clover simply nodded. It was difficult, keeping up with Merry's changes of mood. She was afraid he was too young and inexperienced to witness Bilbo's suffering. But if he thought he could help, then she was inclined to let him. Perhaps little Merry's cheerful demeanor would be just the thing to help Bilbo recover, or at least help Frodo through this. In any case, she found the child's presence uplifting, and wouldn't mind having him around herself. She gave him a little smile as they set back off toward Bag End.
The sky darkened, and worry inched toward panic. She ran down the familiar lane, not really looking where she was going. Her thoughts were centered on Bag End and Uncle Bilbo, so she did not notice the small figure she knocked over as she brushed past.
"Hey!" the hobbit lad cried, picking himself up and dusting himself off. He glared at his assailant, recognizing the distinctive run of his best girl cousin. A plot for revenge sprang fully-formed into the little lad's mind. Without pausing to think, he took off after Clover. The instant he was close enough, he pounced on her back.
She went down with a yelp, and came up swinging. The lad laughed, still clinging to her back. "Gotcha, Clover!" he giggled in her ear.
"Merry!" Clover shouted, prying the boy off her back and flipping him over her shoulders. He somersaulted in the air, landed on his feet, and bowed, grinning.
"Been practicing that for a month," he commented.
"What are you doing in Hobbiton?" Clover demanded. She glared down at Merry, hands on her hips.
"Mum sent me to your house to get me out of her hair," he replied, his grin turning mischievous.
Clover sighed. "What'd you do now?"
Merry stared at his toes and muttered "Overturned a butter churn chasing Pippin"
"Mer-ry!" Clover scolded, "churning butter is hard work!"
"I know," he said ruefully. "Mum made me churn a new batch. Then she sent me here."
"Serves you right. Is the baby with you?" Though Pippin was old enough to both talk and walk, as he gleefully informed everybody, Clover still thought of him as the baby.
Merry shook his head. "Nah, Mum sent him home. Said we needed time apart."
Clover sighed in relief. Though as they grew older it became increasingly difficult to separate them, she still preferred to deal with Meriadoc and Peregrin one at a time. Two of them was just too much, especially now.
"Why are you out so late?" Clover asked, to keep her thoughts from wandering back to Bilbo and Frodo.
"Uncle Marmaduke said I was making him nuts, and to go find something to do. So I came outside for a walk," the younger hobbit replied. "Why isn't Aunt Citrine home?" he asked, mostly to prevent Clover from asking what he'd been doing to make her father nuts.
Clover didn't even notice the lad's pseudo-confession. "Mother is needed elsewhere right now. I am, too, actually, so I must leave you. Try not to destroy anything else," she said, turning to continue on her way.
"Clover, that doesn't answer my question! Where's Auntie needed? And where're you going? And what's all the fuss about, anyway? Everybody in town's in a tither about Bilbo being sick. Bilbo can't be sick, he never gets sick," Merry pestered, trotting after his cousin. He sensed a mystery, and if there was one thing he loved, it was getting to the bottom of something mysterious.
Clover turned so abruptly that little Merry ran into her. She stared down at her cousin for several seconds, chewing her lip while she tried to decide what to tell him. In the end, she concluded that he was plenty old enough to hear the truth. "Bilbo is indeed sick, little cousin. Very sick, and nobody knows what's wrong with him!"
Merry blanched. Like Clover, like Frodo, he's always taken Bilbo's good health completely for granted. It was just one of those constants of life, like the sun rising in the east every morning or things always falling down if you dropped them.
"But..but...Bilbo CAN'T get sick! He just can't!" he protested with a child's logic. Bilbo had never in Merry's life been sick, therefore Bilbo could not get sick. It was simple, straightforward, and suddenly very wrong.
While Frodo was her most irritating cousin, Merry was easily her favorite. Clover couldn't stand to see him so upset, but neither could she lie to him. She kneeled down and gathered the boy into her arms. "Oh, Merry, I'm sorry, but Bilbo is very sick indeed. What's worse, Mother doesn't know what's wrong with him!"
Merry threw his arms around Clover and clung tightly. "How can Auntie Citrine not know what's wrong? She knows everything about every illness ever!" he said.
"I thought that too, but I'm afraid we're both wrong. Nobody really knows what's happened to Bilbo, only that he's stricken with some fell disease. I wish I DID know what was wrong, so I help Mother could cure him!" Clover replied.
Merry pulled himself out of Clover's grasp. He looked at his cousin, obviously thinking. "You're going to Bag End, aren't you, to see Bilbo? I want to come, too," he declare.
"Merry, I don't think.." Clover began.
"I want to see Bilbo," Merry interrupted. "And if I know Frodo, he needs some cheering up, too," he continued.
There really was nothing Clover could say to that. Merry was completely correct; Frodo DID need cheering up, and she was obviously not the one to do it. Merry had always been close to Frodo. Perhaps he would succeed where she had failed so spectacularly.
"Oh, all right. You'll just follow me anyway, so you may as well come too," Clover caved.
"Too right!" Merry grinned, taking Clover's hand. "Let's go see if we can help our cousins."
Clover simply nodded. It was difficult, keeping up with Merry's changes of mood. She was afraid he was too young and inexperienced to witness Bilbo's suffering. But if he thought he could help, then she was inclined to let him. Perhaps little Merry's cheerful demeanor would be just the thing to help Bilbo recover, or at least help Frodo through this. In any case, she found the child's presence uplifting, and wouldn't mind having him around herself. She gave him a little smile as they set back off toward Bag End.