Chapter Two - The Long Ride

By nine o'clock, the sun had fully risen and warmed up the Shire enough to where all the travelers had shucked the blanket and their coats, shoving them underneath the seat. Pippin, still wearing his cloak, took in a deep breath as the cool wind brushed passed his cheeks. He sat between his father and cousin, listening as Merry received instructions on how to drive a team of ponies. After some lengthy discussion, Pippin watched his father hand over the reins to Merry.

"Careful now, son," cautioned Paladin. "Don't pull too hard."

Merry smiled; he loved that endearment his uncle would use. Then he laughed, "I'm driving, Pippin!"

Pippin saw all right--and was quite envious. Pippin wished that he was old enough to drive the ponies. After a couple miles of hearing Merry's joyous outbursts, Pippin had a plan.

"Very good, Merry," said Paladin. "but I think I'll take back the reins for now; we're coming up on a rough part of the road."

As Merry was handing the reins back to his uncle, Pippin made a grab for them. "Haa!" Pippin slapped the reins and the ponies took off running, jolting both Merry and Paladin back into their seats for a moment.

"Pippin!" Paladin shouted, regaining his balance. He grabbed the reins out of the child's hands, bringing the ponies to a stop. "You could've injured yourself and Merry!" he explained, pointing to a deep groove in the road--directly in the path of the wheel on Merry's side. "That rut certainly would've broken our wheel at that speed, and you'd still be tumbling down the side of that ravine. It would take me hours to find you." Paladin took in a deep, calming breath. "I'm sorry you're a little boy, but there are some things you must wait for until you are much bigger."

Pippin sulked at his father's scolding. "But that will never happen. I'll always be seven and littler than everyone else," he answered, "even Ilberic--Merry's cousin, is bigger than I am--and he's a whole year younger."

Merry remembered the Yule party at Brandy Hall. The older boys were laughing about whom was the tallest, then they drummed up a contest between the younger boys as well. "He wasn't bigger then you, Pippin," Merry said. "He was the same size." He purposefully left out the fact that Ilberic wouldn't be six until August. "Besides," he added, "you seemed happy about turning seven last week at your birthday party."

"That was last week, Merry. Now I want to be....twelve! Yes," he stated, "I want to be twelve. Then I could do lots of things."

"Like what?" Paladin had started the ponies back up, but at a much slower pace. He carefully divided his attention between the rough road and his son.

Pippin answered, saying, "Things that Merry is big enough to do--like driving carts..."

Merry sat tall in his seat, and smiled. He was quite proud of his accomplishment today.

"...and work in the fields with you..."

Merry smiled wider. He was beginning to feel like the enviable older brother.

"...and smoke a pipe!"

Merry's eyes were wide in shock. Pippin wasn't supposed to tell anyone!

Pippin put in matter-of-factly, "Merry told me he can smoke a pipe, and I think I should like a try at it, too."

Paladin inched forward in his seat to send his sternest look over towards his nephew, but the young teen's eyes were conveniently occupied looking over the side down the ravine. "It will be a long time before you--or Merry--are old enough to smoke a pipe!" He felt the inside of his coat pocket; ensuring his small pouch and pipe were still there. "Tell me, Pippin lad, what else does Merry do?"

Merry winced, giving Pippin's foot a nudge with his own.

Always willing to oblige an audience, Pippin sang like a bird, "He's even watched the lasses swimming in the Brandywine! He says you can see through--" Pippin's speech was cut off by a certain teen's hand over his mouth.

Merry nervously laughed it off, "I only meant that you can see forever in their eyes."

Pippin took the hand away from his mouth, "You didn't say 'eyes', Merry!"

Now Paladin was shocked. "Merry...did you leave anything for me to teach my son? Or did you go on to tell him how babies are made?"

"No, papa," Pippin answered in genuine interest. "Merry didn't tell me that--how is a baby made?"

Paladin froze. Merry let me walk into that one! He looked over to his nephew, who was grinning--almost laughing.

"Yes, Uncle!" Merry feigned innocence, "That is one of the many stories my own dad hasn't told me."

"No, but I have! Several times because you keep coming back with 'what if' questions!"

Merry couldn't hide his amusement any longer and laughed, "That's because it's so much fun to watch your face turn red as a beet!"

It was a long ride to Michel Delving; there were plenty of songs, and the conversations were long, short, and sometimes silence even settled between the threesome. As the large town loomed in the distance, they stopped on the side of the road for lunch. All three were sprawled out upon the blankets, taking their ease before enclosing themselves in the hustle and bustle of the "city" life.

At length, Paladin decided a bit of exercise would be good after sitting cramped in the little cart all day. The three stood in a circle tossing one of Paladin's apples; he offered it to the winner of the game. If one person dropped it, then they were eliminated and the game would continue between the last two. So far, all three had kept a keen eye on catching the apple. At each toss from Merry, Pippin found himself reaching out more and more for the apple, and after a few of these he felt himself tiring. He figured Merry was over-tossing on purpose. That was all right, he had yet another scheme up his sleeve. When Merry tossed it this time, Pippin nearly missed it, but recovered quickly and had it safely in his hands. He barely hesitated when he broke into a run--in the opposite direction.

Paladin laughed, "Hoy, Pippin! That's not part of the rules!" He and Merry gave chase after the young boy, but by the time they had him tackled it was too late. Pippin already had a mouthful of apple. They immediately proceeded into a tickling match, and naturally, Pippin was bombarded.

"All right, lads," said Paladin, getting to his feet and brushing himself off, "it's nearing time for my first appointment. We have just enough time to greet my cousin, Fiodrin, and then head for Mister Thatch's house."

As Paladin carried Pippin on his back, he noticed Merry lingering several paces back. He stopped, "What's the matter, Merry?"

Merry, hands in his pockets, caught up to his uncle and shrugged, "The usual."

Paladin put his arm around his nephew's shoulder and walked beside him. He knew exactly what 'the usual' was. It was something the two understood between each other since Merry was about five years old. "Me too, son." That was Paladin's code answer to his nephew, meaning: I wish you were mine, too.

"Me too, brother!" Pippin had no clue as to what was just said between his father and cousin, but he wanted to make Merry smile.

Merry's answer truly baffled his young cousin when he smiled and replied, "I already am."