A dream's meaning- Part one.

Merry suddenly awoke. He bolted upright in his bed and gave a short sigh. He looked over to the left of him and, in the spare bed, Pippin was still asleep. So peaceful, Pippin was, that it made Merry annoyed by how the Hobbit could sleep anywhere anytime. After calming, he settled back against the pillows and sighed softly. He was staying in the Smials, and because Pearl was home, he'd had to share with Pippin. Merry, being far to tall for the pull-out spare bed, was given first priority to Pippin's bed, which wasn't a bad thing. It just made him restless. Dreams had woven endlessly through his mind and Merry was concerned over this, for he hardly ever dreamed. Even if he did, he could never remember them. Pippin was the dreamer. Both night and day led his cousin's mind to wander. That's the way Pippin was. Dreamt through the night, remembered what he dreamt, and then, through the day, his mind would always be off in distant thoughts and memories, although Pippin hardly ever discussed what things he dreamt or thought of-not even to Merry.

"Pip!" Merry whispered.

Pippin wasn't a heavy sleeper, Merry knew, but it was the middle of the night, so the Took wouldn't exactly be responsive.

"Pippin-" Merry called again, though more harshly.

Pippin stirred only slightly. He gave a soft, sleepy sigh and rolled over onto his side so that he was facing Merry. Merry sat up again and reached round, lifting a velvet cushion off Pippin's chair. He then proceeded to gently throw it so that it landed with a "wumfph" noise on Pippin's head.

"Huh-" Pippin started.

The pillow fell, and his green eyes fluttered open.

"Are you alright?" Was the soft, tired reply.

Merry smiled slightly. Pippin was never angry or annoyed if ever he got woken-just concerned and always considerate to how everyone else was feeling.

"I suppose," Merry replied softly.

Pippin blinked a few more times and took in a few gulps of air. He yawned and then sat up.

"What's wrong?" He asked softly.

Merry brought his knees up and wrapped the covers over him more tightly.

"I had a bad dream." He replied.

Pippin frowned. Merry never had bad dreams. Everyone knew that. Pippin had bad dreams-almost all the time, countless times, he'd awoken-screaming and shaking, only to be comforted and told that everything was alright.

"You don't-" Pippin started.

Merry nodded.

"I know. Which is why I'm concerned. I'm worried something bad's going to happen. It sounds strange, but whenever bad things happened, my father would always have bad dreams-like a prophecy or foretelling or something." Merry figured.

Pippin reached over and took a cooling sip of water from the glass he'd always have at night and then smiled slightly.

"Well, then why don't we have ourselves a midnight snack to help you forget it. It always helps me!" Pippin replied.

Merry nodded. That did seem a reasonable idea. He unravelled the covers and stood up. Pippin clambered out of his bed and silently crept to the door. He turned to Merry before he opened it.

"We have to be extra quiet, though. Now Peal's here, she might hear us. She'll shout at us-you know, since she's expecting and all." Pippin said.

Merry nodded and followed Pippin out of the room into the darkened hallway.

***

They crept steadily along the hallway and as silently as they were able. They were reaching the end of the hallway, when Pippin suddenly stumbled over something and fell to the ground on his knees. Merry sniggered and tried very hard to keep his laughter at bay, while Pippin bit his lip in an attempt from shouting out.

"Wh, what did you fall over?" Merry whispered, trying desperately not to laugh.

Pippin looked behind him and saw the velveteen rug on the floor. He pointed to it and then looked up to Merry. Merry was grinning and Pippin knew the Brandybuck was shaking through the strain of holding in his laughter.

Pippin picked himself up and they resumed their way to the kitchen. Once they were inside, Pippin pushed the door ajar and lit two of the seven candles that hung in one of the casters.

"Right, well, there's buttermilk, rusk-" Pippin began.

"Rusk!" Merry said, laughing at the way his cousin had said it.

A small smile formed upon Pippin's lips and he giggled back.

"Or lavender cookies, oatmeal cookies, some leftover meat and cheese sauce- or and there's some soup we can warm up or even a few baked potatoes." Pippin continued.

Merry reached up to the shelf and went to grab the buttermilk. He slipped and the buttermilk fell from his grasp, splattering all over the floor. Pippin sniggered, and half-giggled half-squeaked his response.

"Shhh!" Merry responded through his hushed laughter.

They both stood there for a few seconds, staring at the mess and doing their up-most not to burst out laughing, Pippin's hand was clasped tightly over his own mouth as he stared down at the mess. There was no specific reason as to why they had such a bad giggling fit, but something to do with tiredness and the excitement of perhaps getting caught was making them slightly nervous.

"We better clean up!" Pippin whispered, after he felt he'd gotten control over his fit.

Merry remained covering his nose and mouth and nodded, although was still in a stage of giggles. As Pippin got down on his hands and knees, they both heard the noise of a door creaking. A soft padding of footsteps drew closer and they held their breath, as they both looked and the door openend.

To be continued!

-Sorry to have to do this to you, but there we go! Once this story is finished, I will be posting a little Christmas one I have written, so I hope you enjoy that too. Reviews, as always, are welcome.

~Highland-Spring.