Bag End, Mid-year Day, 1404 SR
Oh, disaster.
Where could it be?
Pippin stood in the middle of the room, frantically looking around.
No, no. It can't be here. I put it in my pocket before I went out.
He had emptied all of his pockets, the contents strewn on the floor: a ball of blue yarn, some dried and very dusty raisins, a few marbles, a few walnuts, a small wooden whistle, three dead crickets, a lump of candy---half-melted and caked with hair and dirt---and other oddments that usually occupied the pockets of a hobbit lad of fourteen. But whatever it was Pippin was looking for was not in any of his pockets. He started flinging pillows and blankets around, opening drawers and chests, and looking under the furniture.
Frodo will kill me. He will kill me for certain. If he couldn't, Iris would. Either way, I'm a dead hobbit.
He stood up from the crouching position he assumed to peer under the drawers, blinking as he fought tears of panic and dread.
Calm down. Calm down now.
He sat forlornly on the bed, burying his face in his hands.
I shouldn't have volunteered to be the ring-bearer. I'm not cut out for it. Why did Frodo let me be the ring-bearer? He should've known I would lose it. I'm no good….
He gasped and sat up straight, his eyes widening.
Merry. Yes. Merry will know what to do. He'll skin me alive afterward, chop me and feed me to the pigs, but he'll know what to do.
He stood up and rushed out of the room to find Merry. He walked past round windows that offered glimpses of the hustle and bustle of the upcoming wedding: the huge tents where already some wooden tables were arranged, each laden with plates and bowls and pots of food; the stage where the musicians were rehearsing noisily; and the white, rose-bedecked bower, where Frodo Baggins was to marry Iris Foxbury that afternoon. But Pippin had no time to observe the commotion. The only thing on his mind was looking for Merry.
"Merry!" he called out in relief when he saw his cousin in one of the dining tent. "Merry!" Pippin ran toward him.
Merry did not seem to hear Pippin's high-pitched call, owing to the fact that the lass who was hand-feeding him creamy slices of cake was giggling in the most mesmerizing way. Merry's eyes were in imminent danger of popping out of their sockets as he dared himself to lick the white cream off the girl's fingers.
"Merry, help!" gasped Pippin as he reached his cousin, grabbing Merry's arm most unceremoniously. "I lost Frodo's ring!"
Merry, torn mercilessly from the dizzying sensations brought by strawberry shortcake and satiny fingers, chomped unwittingly on said fingers, eliciting an angry and pained yelp from the girl who only seconds before was laughing divinely.
"Merry!" squealed the lass, waving her hand and throwing dark looks at Merry. "I'd appreciate it if you told me beforehand that for you hungry also means bloodthirsty!"
"I'm sorry, Donna," pleaded Merry guiltily. "I didn't mean to…."
The girl shoved the plate at Merry and whirled around, tossing her abundant mahogany hair. "Get yourself a spoon!" she hissed as she stomped out of the tent. Merry stared after her, mouth gaping, looking very pitiful with the plate of unfinished cake in his hand.
Then he turned, and Pippin took a step back in alarm when he saw the furious look in Merry's eyes. "Pippin!" growled Merry menacingly, advancing on his younger cousin.
"I'm sorry, Merry," stammered Pippin. "But I was…."
"Do you know how long," muttered Merry, his fingers gripping the plate so tightly, nearly breaking it in two, "how long it took me before I could finally make her feed me that cake?"
"Merry, her fingers could be dirty," said Pippin in a weak voice.
"I'll show you dirty, you sorry little bugger!" yelled Merry, raising the plate of cake.
"It's Frodo's ring, Merry!" screamed Pippin. "I lost it! Help me find it, please!"
Merry's hand stopped in midair. The cake lurched and dropped with a splat onto Pippin's foot. But Pippin did not flinch. He fixed his eyes on Merry's face, now turning from livid crimson to a more familiar shade, his brows knitting in concern.
"What?" Merry queried. "What do you mean you lost it?"
"Well," Pippin began stumblingly. "When I heard that the Mayor will be late, because of that other wedding down in Bywater, and Iris's wagon broke down and they had to fix it, so they would be late, I thought it would be alright if I played for a while."
"Play?" muttered Merry, his eyes widening in alarm. "What sort of 'play?'"
"Well, nothing much," replied Pippin, avoiding Merry's eyes. "First I went to the goat pen, you see. I wanted to see those cuddly newborn kids. Then I went to the kitchen…to…to check the preparation…."
Merry snorted.
"Then I climbed that cherry tree at the back, because they said there's a nest of fledgling robins up there and I wanted…."
Merry cleared his throat ominously, and Pippin choked back the urge to explain why he wanted to see a nest of baby birds.
"Then I waded in the stream. I wanted to catch some tadpoles," Pippin went on innocently. "Then Mummy caught me, and told me to change. That's when I realized I've lost it."
"What did you do with the ring?" Merry asked. "Before you lost it, I mean."
"I wrapped it in my handkerchief," said Pippin. "And put it in my coat pocket."
Merry placed the plate back on the table and grabbed Pippin's arm. "Come on! We don't have much time!"
Together they ran to the goat pen out on the other side of the hill.
"I stood there." Pippin pointed at a spot by the wooden fence. "That she-goat over there came over and I gave her the apple I was eating. Then the other goats started coming too." He smiled in fond memory of the goats shoving each other to get a taste of his apple.
Merry looked sick. "Was your handkerchief peeking out of your pocket, Pip?" he asked.
"I don't know, Merry. Maybe," said Pippin, looking up at his cousin. "Why do you ask?"
"Goats eat anything," answered Merry darkly. "Even clothes."
Pippin turned pale and looked again at the goats. "What do we do now?" he whispered, close to tears. "I can't bear the thought of them butchered just to find the ring. Do you think Iris would agree to wait until…?"
"Don't be foolish, Pippin," said Merry sharply. "It's just a possibility. We'll get back to the goats if we can't find the ring in the kitchen."
They went to the kitchen, still bustling with the prospect of feeding the hundreds of guests invited to the wedding.
"What did you do here?" asked Merry, dodging a harried-looking cook who rushed past with a steaming pot of dumplings.
"Salad," replied Pippin weakly.
They went to the table where rows of salad bowls were placed.
"We can't possibly eat them all, Mer," groaned Pippin.
Frowning, Merry stared at Pippin. "Who's talking about eating? Was that why you were here? Pilfering greens?"
Pippin blushed. "They put the sweetest beet in it," he said.
Merry shook his head in exasperation. "We will need spoons," said Merry. "Wooden ones!" he added when he saw Pippin darting to get a couple of tablespoons.
Armed with spoons, they stood in front of the salad bowls, grim-faced. "You start from that end," instructed Merry, "I'll take care of this end. Listen carefully for clinking sounds."
Pippin nodded and soon the two young hobbits were busy tossing greens in the bowls. Moving from bowl to bowl, they nearly met in the middle when suddenly Pippin paused and stared at Merry with horrified look.
"Mer," he whispered. "I just remembered something."
"What?" said Merry without taking his eyes off his bowl.
"I helped Marina stir the beans," replied Pippin, ashen-faced.
Looking nauseated, the two hobbits turned to gaze helplessly at the oven where the beans were being baked.
"You're dead, Pip," muttered Merry.
Pippin swallowed hard. "Maybe someone would bite into the beans and find the ring and return it to Frodo," he said hopefully.
"We need the ring before that, Pip," said Merry sharply. "In case you've forgotten, it's a wedding ring. A very expensive, dwarf-made ring, I might add. The diamond alone costs more than your life, Pip."
Pippin gasped, turning pale, looking so close to tears that Merry could not help feeling sorry.
"Alright," he said briskly. "We'll try the tree."
They ducked out the kitchen tent and went round the back to the old cherry tree. Pippin climbed up the tree, inspecting every inch of its bark, while Merry examined the ground on all fours. But they quickly concluded that neither the handkerchief nor the ring was anywhere near the tree.
"Creek," said Merry grimly as he stood up, brushing dirt and grass from his knees. Pippin mutely obeyed, tagging along like a mournful shadow. The sun, gliding even lower in the sky did not help them in the least. Soon, Iris and her huge cavalcade of family and relatives would arrive. They had to find that ring sometime before tea, or they could never bring themselves to face Frodo again.
They scoured the muddy banks of the creek in silence. Pippin bit his lip, valiantly trying not to cry. He was beginning to believe that the ring had been lost past all hope of discovery. But the thought of how Frodo would take the news made him grit his teeth and go on.
He wouldn't scream and rant, Pippin thought. He would only frown before questioning me with that calm, patient, unreadable look on his face, which always made me feel even worse. Then what? Would he try to explain to Iris and her family? What would he say? "I'm sorry, but it seems that my cousin has misplaced the wedding ring. Perhaps we could go on without it? Or would you prefer to wait until it's found?"
But what if Iris refused to marry him without that ring? What would her proud and doubting family say? Mummy said they were none too keen on Iris marrying Frodo, on account of his unusual company and his slightly colorful family history. But Frodo had shown them, hadn't he? There wasn't a steadier, more dignified hobbit in all of Hobbiton than Frodo Baggins, master of Bag End for the past three years after the disappearance of his "mad" cousin. Iris could find no better husband in the entire Shire. And Frodo would be happy with her, wouldn't he? He would be well taken care of, as he richly deserved to be. He would not be lonely anymore.
He would not need his friends as much as before. Certainly not little Pippin Took who wreaked havoc wherever he went.
"Pip," called Merry softly. He sloshed toward Pippin who was sitting; hugging his legs, on a rock caked with drying mud. The younger hobbit was weeping silently, his lean frame trembling. Merry gathered him into his arms and awkwardly rumpled Pippin's straw-colored curls. "Don't worry too much; Frodo will understand. Stop crying. It'll be alright."
Pippin shut his eyes and clenched his teeth. How could he explain that he wasn't crying because of the lost ring, but because of the loss of Frodo? Merry would only laugh at him; everybody did, or would. Why, Pip, Frodo would still live in Bag End, they would say, he wasn't going anywhere. You could always come and visit. Nothing would change. And Iris was such a sweet lass, she would certainly welcome any of Frodo's friends and relatives, wouldn't she?
But it would be different. Frodo would be different. He had changed much ever since he met Iris and confessed that he was in love. He grew even more strange after his engagement was announced in spring. Oh, he was still nice and kind, in that determined, self-possessed way that was typical of Frodo Baggins. But he took to staying at home more. No more starlit jaunts to the woody hills, no more pony rides and camping trips and no more long, lonely walks to explore the lesser known spots around Hobbiton; Pippin hadn't even seen him swim once since Thrimidge, and it had been a pretty sweltering summer.
Maybe that was the reason why he deliberately "lost" the ring. Maybe deep inside Pippin did not want to see Frodo married to Iris. The horrible thought startled Pippin and he stood up with a jolt.
"We have to keep on looking, Mer," he gasped, wiping tears and mud from his face with his sleeve.
"No." Merry shook his head. "I think it's time we tell Frodo."
Pippin winced.
"Come," said Merry. "We have to get this thing straightened out before Iris's family arrives."
They trudged back, two disheveled young hobbits with muddied feet, to the smial that buzzed with an even more frantic pace as the appointed hour drew near. Somehow they managed to escape their mothers and slipped into the quieter quarters at the back of the smial and made their way to Frodo's room.
"You can't do this, Frodo!" A voice rang from the room as Merry and Pippin approached it. The young hobbits paused, looking at each other. "It would not be fair for Iris!"
"It's your Dad," mouthed Pippin to Merry. Merry raised his eyebrows and gestured towards the door. He and Pippin crept nearer and peered into Frodo's spacious bedroom.
Frodo was sitting on his bed, his back to the door. He was already dressed in his new suit, though the night-blue jacket was still draped neatly on the back of a chair by the bed. Saradoc, Merry's father, stood by the bedside, looking furiously exasperated.
"I'm not saying that I want the wedding canceled, Sara," said Frodo, and there was tiredness in his voice. "All I said was that somehow I'm not sure about this marriage."
"This is no longer the time to be uncertain about so serious a decision as marriage," said Saradoc scathingly. "Now how are you going to tell Iris about this?"
"She won't hear it from me, I can assure you of that," said Frodo. "I hate to cause her any pain. Don't worry."
He stood up and walked to the window, staring out with his hands on his pockets. "Only I'm worried," he said quietly. "This morning when I woke up I found myself thinking 'It's a nice day for a long walk. I know the White-downs will be lovely this time of year.' My first thought was not on this wedding, nor Iris. And I know, I am certain, that someday I would feel that call again, a much stronger one, demanding and uncompromising, and I would thoughtlessly abandon Iris to succumb to it, and then what would happen to her?"
Saradoc laughed softly, a relieved laugh. "If there is one thing I know about you, Frodo Baggins, it's this: you are not the kind who will forsake those you love."
"Thank you for the words of confidence," said Frodo, chuckling bitterly himself. "Still, I can't help but think about how it must feel. Somehow I know that even a life with Iris will not stay that fire and even if I refuse to yield to its call, it will gut me from the inside and make a bitter hobbit out of me. I will regret the marriage; I will come to see it as a prison. Iris deserves better."
Saradoc placed his hand on Frodo's shoulder. "This is nothing but an acute attack of wedding-jitters, Frodo. Believe me, it happened to me too. But now, I simply can't imagine a life without Esmie."
Outside the door, Pippin pulled a face and Merry elbowed him in the ribs.
"I hope you're right, Sara," sighed Frodo. "But…."
He turned to look at Saradoc. "Last June I said that I wanted to go on a short trip, not more than a fortnight, along the East Road, to Bree."
"To Bree?" said Saradoc. "Whatever for?"
"Just so I would get a taste of the outside world before it's rendered impossible for me," said Frodo. "The dwarves would accompany me, so I need not fear for my safety, and we would be riding, so it really would not take that long."
He paused, considering. "I told Iris about this," he went on quietly. "And she said she couldn't allow me to go. What if I got killed? What if I decided to go farther, to the kingdom of the dwarves, or even beyond? And…you will forgive me for saying this, but at the time, I hated her. I hated her for shackling me to her side."
Pippin shuddered when he heard the bitterness in Frodo's voice. This was wrong, he thought. Frodo should've been excited, ecstatic about his wedding, not doubtful and resigned like this….
Frodo still stood, gazing out his window, which opened to the east. "I still wonder, Saradoc, what lies beyond that hazy distance? Surely there's something. A great world is out there; so many unknown things, people and lands. I wish I could reach out and bring them nearer so I can read and study them…. I wish…."
"Peregrin Took, look at you!" screeched a voice behind Merry and Pippin. The two lads whirled around and met the stern gaze of Pearl Took, Pippin's redoubtable eldest sister. "What are you doing here? And Merry…" She shook her head disdainfully. "Clearly reaching the tweens changed very little of you."
Merry bristled but Pippin held his hand. "We want to speak to Frodo," he said steadily.
"Correction," said Pearl, grabbing Pippin's arm. "You want a bath--a quick one--and a change. You too, Merry."
Merry snorted at the commanding tone in Pearl's voice.
"Pearl, wait!" hissed Pippin, clutching Pearl's sleeve. "Pearl, I lost the ring. Frodo's wedding ring."
Pearl stopped mid-stride and glared at Pippin. Then she lifted her eyes and met Merry's. Merry nodded quietly.
"We've looked everywhere for it," furthered Pippin, still in whispers. "But it was nowhere to be found. What should I do?"
"Oh dear," muttered Pearl. "Have you told anyone?"
Pippin shook his head. "We were just going to tell Frodo, but he was talking to Merry's father."
"No, not to Frodo," said Pearl thoughtfully. "He has a lot on his mind as it is. We don't want to make him unduly alarmed. Well, at least not now when we have no answer in our hands."
"I think the two of you should wash first," Pearl said decisively. "And get into some clean clothes--it's a good thing Mamma made you two suits for this occasion, Pip. I will see what I can do. Come out and see me when you're passably presentable."
Pippin looked up gratefully at his sister and made to embrace her but Pearl pushed him away, "Don't touch! It took me ages to make these ruffles fluff like this. And I can't have your muddy fingers print unwanted motifs on my new dress, thank you."
Pippin grinned and pulled Merry away. "Thanks, Pearl," he said over his shoulder. "You're the best."
"And you're the worst," said Pearl scowling, though her eyes glowed.
Pippin stuck out his tongue and, with Merry, rounded the corner to his quarters.
"I thought you said she's a venom-spitting dragon," said Merry when they were well out of Pearl's earshot. "She's pretty nice for a dragon."
"Well, what can I say," said Pippin jovially. The pinched, worried look had entirely left his face and his bubbly cheerfulness returned. "The charms of the young Thain to be. Even a dragoness is helpless before my beguiling appeal."
Merry snorted and scuffed Pippin on the head.
"But it is true, Merry," protested Pippin. "Since you were very fluently silent back there, you can hardly lay any claim to Pearl's change of heart."
Merry grinned. "I'm sorry I didn't help you, Pip," he said. "Truth to tell, I was busy putting finishing touches on the hem of your sister's dress."
"What?" yelled Pippin.
Merry pointed at his still muddy toes. "It's dried a little," he said modestly. "But I dare say I've painted quite an interesting pattern on her dress. She will ponder twice the next time she thinks she has the authority to tell me to wash."
Pippin laughed. "Oh, Merry," he gasped adoringly. They took the different turns to their rooms, still chortling.
***