Bag End, Yule, 1399 SR
Oh, horrors.
Pippin bent his knees and once again felt the mattress with his toes. His face, already bleak and tense, was twisted into an expression of near-tears agony.
What would cousin Frodo say?
His mother had warned him about the amount of tea he imbibed that afternoon. And it was such a thrilling day: the last leg of the ride to Bag End, with the ponies running like tempests after a rabbit jumped beside the road and spooked them; the utterly satisfying shriek uttered by Pearl when she found a lizard among her underthings; his own first encounter with the dwarves and their fascinating beards. It was always the worst, his problem, after a day full of excitement. But why did it have to happen here? On cousin Frodo's bed?
If Pearl found out….
Pippin moaned and shut his eyes, gripping his curls in frustrated fists.
If only I had been a bit more careful and visited the privy before going to bed… If only I hadn't insisted on being a big boy and refused to sleep with Mummy and Papa… Mummy would've understood. Papa would've scowled, but then he always did. But Pearl… And after the lizard, she would certainly go for blood… If this leaked out and the entirety of Tuckborough found out…
He flew out of bed. I must do something, he frantically thought as he stripped the covers off the bed. And soon. Before…
He jumped and screamed when the door swung open. Music, laughter, talk and a song sung off-key blared in from the party that still went on in the main hall, four doors down the corridor, before Frodo closed the heavy round door behind him and turned to face Pippin.
"Pippin." A mild surprise in his voice, Frodo stared at his cousin, who was standing by the bed, clutching the corners of the white cotton bed sheets. "I thought you're…" He stopped and frowned, his eyes fixed on the large, damp patch on the sheets.
Pippin trembled. He bit his lip and blinked against the tears that threatened to drown his eyes.
Just kill me now, thought Pippin morosely. Laugh now, cousin Frodo, and kill me right out.
He gazed in desperate defiance at Frodo. "Sorry," he muttered.
Frodo raised his eyebrows. "Well," he said, before moving closer to Pippin, inspecting the catastrophe with inscrutable eyes. He shrugged. "Leaks happen."
He looked innocently and in all seriousness at the sloping ceiling. Pippin could not help but smile, gratefully, at his older cousin's outrageous remark.
Frodo returned his smile and ruffled Pippin's hair. "But I, my dear young Took," he said, bending so that his eyes were almost on the same level as Pippin's, "am above sleeping with a pool in my feather bed. So let's do something about this mess because I'm just about plumb tired with this party and I long for sleep."
Pippin nodded eagerly, his cheeks burning tomato red. He watched as Frodo dragged the feather bed outside and along the corridor to an unoccupied spare bedroom.
"Can I help?" said Pippin as he watched Frodo roll the mattress off the unused bed.
"No," grunted Frodo, as he made ready for another march down the corridor, back to his room, with an unsoiled mattress this time. "You will want to go to the privy and get into some clean clothes. I can't abide … well … this kind of fragrance."
Pippin laughed shamefacedly and trotted back to Frodo's room to fetch a clean night garb. When he returned from the bathroom, clad in a clean nightshirt, Frodo had already made the bed. He smiled at Pippin, who stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed.
"Do you think we need to push the bed a bit further to the corner?" said Frodo, his eyes dancing.
Pippin gaped. Frodo gave the ceiling a quick glance and Pippin gasped in embarrassment. "No," he blurted, blushing profusely. "Never happens twice in one night."
Frodo laughed. "Good," he said lightly, smiling as he unbuttoned his waistcoat.
Pippin felt a strange constriction in his throat. "If you…" he murmured, then swallowed before finally continued, "want me to, I can sleep in the other room, with Mummy and Papa."
"Do you want to?" asked Frodo, putting on his nightshirt.
Pippin shook his head slowly. "Papa snores," he muttered, and Frodo laughed.
"Go to sleep, Pip," he said, pushing Pippin into bed. He was about to crawl under the covers when there was an urgent knock on the door.
"Frodo? Lad, are you asleep yet?" called a slurred voice reminiscent of Bilbo's. "Frodo?"
With a comic sigh and an exaggerated roll of his blue eyes, Frodo went to the door and opened it. "What is it, Bilbo?" he asked.
"It's Lotho, lad," Bilbo answered, the hostility in his voice was starkly obvious even when his speech testified to the liberal dose of wine he had consumed during the feasting. "He's out cold. Lobelia said Otho's too drunk to drive them back, and with Lotho knocked out, they have no other choice but to spend the night here. Otho and Lobelia I can put in one of the bigger guestrooms, but Lotho…."
"He's not sleeping with me!" hissed Frodo vehemently. "Pippin's here." Pippin could sense the fierce relief behind the last statement.
"I know, lad, I know," said Bilbo. "The smial's that full you have to give up your own bed…. No, what I meant to say was, do you know if we have any spare bedroom left?"
Frodo was quiet for a moment. "Yes," he said finally. "The one at the back corner, the one without a window." Pippin frowned. He recognized that room as the place where they stashed the evidence of his crime.
Bilbo giggled mischievously. "That should be just fine for our dear Lotho, don't you think?" he said. "Maybe if he is thankful enough because we keep the morning sun from his wine-pickled eyes, he will let slip where his mother buried my silver spoons."
"Bilbo!" Frodo remonstrated, but his mock sternness soon dissolved into chuckles. Pippin grinned in the semi-darkness of Frodo's room, watching his two older cousins giggling by the door.
"Maybe I shouldn't even leave Lobelia too long in the dining room. She's tipsy enough, but I saw the way she looked at our chandelier," mused Bilbo, followed by another burst of laughter. "Did you notice the size of her handbag? She does come prepared, doesn't she?"
Frodo let out an unholy shriek and Pippin had to bury his face in the pillow lest his own mirth betray him.
"Really, Bilbo," gasped Frodo. "That's no way for a burglar like you to talk about another…."
This time it was Bilbo who howled with uninhibited glee and Pippin rolled on the bed laughing, pounding the mattress.
"But you're right. We shouldn't let her off our guard," said Frodo, wiping his eyes. "I'll see to the room then, and I'll even escort Lotho there myself. You take care of Lobelia and Otho."
"Thank you, lad, thank you," gushed Bilbo, patting Frodo's back vigorously. "I'll leave you to it then, and resume my vigil."
"Keep a sharp lookout on the handbag," whispered Frodo none too softly, and once again the two hobbits laughed uproariously, and Pippin wondered how long they could go on guffawing before rousing the suspicion of the other partying hobbits, and also, how long he could laugh the way he did before another episode of leaking ceiling happen. The thought sobered him, and his face was straight when Frodo came over to the bed.
"I'm sorry if we kept you from sleeping, Pip," said Frodo a trifle guiltily. Then his face assumed a more serious look. "And now I'm not sure you should be listening to what Bilbo and I were talking about."
"I won't tell anyone, Frodo," said Pippin as solemnly as he could. "Besides, I already know about the spoons."
"What?" exclaimed Frodo. "How…."
"I'm maybe only nine, but I'm really quite sharp," said Pippin complacently. "I'm rather good at pretending not to listen at teas. And teas with Mummy and her friends are very …" he paused, licking his lip as he fumbled for the right word, "educational."
Frodo laughed so hard he collapsed on the bed, gripping his stomach. "Oh my, you are really sharp," he gasped after a while. He reached out and mussed Pippin's hair. "And, Pip, I can never thank you enough for keeping Lotho out of my room. If you think your papa snores, try sleeping anywhere in the vicinity of Lotho's bedroom."
Pippin smiled, feeling pleased with himself. But then a look of worry streaked across his face. He propped himself on his elbow and looked down at his cousin who was still sprawled helpless on the bed. "Frodo… um …" he said anxiously, "you won't tell anyone about…my secret, will you? Promise?"
Frodo nodded gravely. "Not a soul. As I said, leaks happen. To anyone."
Pippin's eyes grew wide. "To … to you too?" he inquired, hardly daring to expect an affirmative reply.
Frodo shrugged.
"You?" whispered Pippin. "Leaked?"
Frodo nodded gravely. "I had it worse. I did it on my Gramma's bed," he said bitterly.
Pippin's mouth fell open. A look of utter disbelief and shock crossed his face. "Then what happened?" he whispered thickly. "Did anyone find out?"
Frodo laughed sheepishly. "I was lucky. She thought she did it."
Pippin threw back his head and laughed long and hard.
***