The entire wagon ride to Hobbiton was wrapped in a hazy fog, both in
reality and Frodo's own mind. The mists were so thick Frodo could barely
see his own hand if he reached his arm to full length. He could feel it
against his skin pressing down like a wet towel. A damp, earthy smell
filled the air around him. The lulling sounds of hoofbeats and Merry's
heavy breathing had an over all numbing effect, making his mind wander from
where he was going (he couldn't believe he would have a home with Uncle
Bilbo!), to the small amount of scenery he could see as they passed by it.
The seven year old Merry, who now had his curly, golden brown head pillowed on Frodo's shoulder, had insisted on coming to say goodbye to his favorite cousin. He had put up quite a fuss, denying that it was too long a trip for him, and promising up and down that he would behave perfectly. He was quite true to his word, as he had had fallen asleep almost instantly, so was involuntarily not causing any trouble. Frodo shifted slightly, and Merry groaned in his sleep.
"No, not the red one..." he muttered suddenly, flinching slightly at the thought of 'the red one', "...green... I hate the red one..." He shifted around for a moment or two more, before resettling.
Frodo smiled at the sleeping little nuisance. If there was anything he would miss more than passingly in his move to Bag End, it would be his little playmate. The latter of his memories at Brandy Hall were bland at the very least, and sometimes achingly lonely. Not that any of his relatives had tried advertantly to make him feel unwelcome. The honest truth was just that life at Brandy Hall could be exceedingly lonely if one wasn't an overly social creature. This Frodo had never been, so most of his early playmates were children of his parents' friends. Even after their deaths he hadn't changed in his willingness to seek out his own playmates, and therefore had a lot of friends in print, but not made of flesh. It hadn't taken him long to be labeled as a loner of sorts, someone who did not want to be bothered.
That label hadn't stopped young Merry. He was only two or three the first time he started trailing after his much older cousin. On that first day Frodo hadn't even realized the small boy was following him until he got at least a mile from the Hall. Neither, apparently, had Merry's mother. Frodo, of all people, got punished severely for not telling her ahead of time that he and Merry were together. Despite that, the two of them had found a lot more fun things to do together than apart. From then on Frodo was something between Merry's caretaker, best friend, and role model.
So no one was really shocked when Merry turned out to be quite a hell- raiser, even at his young age. Here he was, not even ten, and already his reputation was known all through Buckland, and anywhere else he may have had relatives. Of course, most of the ideas were credited (correctly) to the older of the partners in crime, but it was the smaller of the two who carried them out, so he earned his rightful share of infamy. Many of the residents of Brandy Hall were at least somewhat glad for the seperation of the two terrors, feeling much more safe. Some were less contented with it, though. Despite the menace the two casued, quite a few of the hobbits looked lovingly at the little rascals' pranks. They were just a tweenager and a little one after all.
One of the wagon wheels landed hard in a deep rut, jarring the passengers somewhat violently. Merry woke with a start, looking around in confusion. "We there yet?" he asked in a just barely coherent slur.
"Not quite," Frodo answered. "We still have about an hour's ride ahead of us."
"Good." Merry moved his head back to Frodo's shoulder, but did not fall asleep. "Frodo?" he asked tentatively.
"Yes?"
"When you live in Bag End and make all your new friends, will you still play with me?" The young boy's usually confident, playful voice sounded very lonely and isolated suddenly. He turned his head to look seriously at Frodo, a look that seemed very out of place on his young, always smiling face.
"Yes, of course I will Merry." Frodo had been expecting the question, but it still made him hurt for his young friend. He knew Merry wouldn't understand about the whole thing, but he had tried to think of a way to explain it to him. "We won't see each other as much, of course, but I have a feeling we will be friends for a very long time."
"You aren't sick of me?" the child asked, a bit more spiritedly this time.
"Now why would I be sick of you?" Frodo wondered out loud. True, Merry could be a nuisance, but he was also a very close friend.
"Because you are a tweenager now and I'm still a little kid. No other tweenager likes playing with us kids, they say we're imma- imma-"
"Immature?" Merry nodded as Frodo pronounced the word he was thinking of. "Well that would be rather unfair of me. I'm really not that much more mature than you." Okay, it was a bit of a stretch, but in a way it was true.
"I guess.... Does that mean you still wanna be my friend?" Merry asked again. Frodo smiled and squeezed his cousin's shoudler gently.
"Of course I still want to be your friend, you little nuisance. And just think of all the marvelous adventures we can go on in Hobbiton. You haven't seen much of it at all. We could do a lot of new things here." Merry nodded enthusiastically, much to Frodo's relief. They were still friends.
The seven year old Merry, who now had his curly, golden brown head pillowed on Frodo's shoulder, had insisted on coming to say goodbye to his favorite cousin. He had put up quite a fuss, denying that it was too long a trip for him, and promising up and down that he would behave perfectly. He was quite true to his word, as he had had fallen asleep almost instantly, so was involuntarily not causing any trouble. Frodo shifted slightly, and Merry groaned in his sleep.
"No, not the red one..." he muttered suddenly, flinching slightly at the thought of 'the red one', "...green... I hate the red one..." He shifted around for a moment or two more, before resettling.
Frodo smiled at the sleeping little nuisance. If there was anything he would miss more than passingly in his move to Bag End, it would be his little playmate. The latter of his memories at Brandy Hall were bland at the very least, and sometimes achingly lonely. Not that any of his relatives had tried advertantly to make him feel unwelcome. The honest truth was just that life at Brandy Hall could be exceedingly lonely if one wasn't an overly social creature. This Frodo had never been, so most of his early playmates were children of his parents' friends. Even after their deaths he hadn't changed in his willingness to seek out his own playmates, and therefore had a lot of friends in print, but not made of flesh. It hadn't taken him long to be labeled as a loner of sorts, someone who did not want to be bothered.
That label hadn't stopped young Merry. He was only two or three the first time he started trailing after his much older cousin. On that first day Frodo hadn't even realized the small boy was following him until he got at least a mile from the Hall. Neither, apparently, had Merry's mother. Frodo, of all people, got punished severely for not telling her ahead of time that he and Merry were together. Despite that, the two of them had found a lot more fun things to do together than apart. From then on Frodo was something between Merry's caretaker, best friend, and role model.
So no one was really shocked when Merry turned out to be quite a hell- raiser, even at his young age. Here he was, not even ten, and already his reputation was known all through Buckland, and anywhere else he may have had relatives. Of course, most of the ideas were credited (correctly) to the older of the partners in crime, but it was the smaller of the two who carried them out, so he earned his rightful share of infamy. Many of the residents of Brandy Hall were at least somewhat glad for the seperation of the two terrors, feeling much more safe. Some were less contented with it, though. Despite the menace the two casued, quite a few of the hobbits looked lovingly at the little rascals' pranks. They were just a tweenager and a little one after all.
One of the wagon wheels landed hard in a deep rut, jarring the passengers somewhat violently. Merry woke with a start, looking around in confusion. "We there yet?" he asked in a just barely coherent slur.
"Not quite," Frodo answered. "We still have about an hour's ride ahead of us."
"Good." Merry moved his head back to Frodo's shoulder, but did not fall asleep. "Frodo?" he asked tentatively.
"Yes?"
"When you live in Bag End and make all your new friends, will you still play with me?" The young boy's usually confident, playful voice sounded very lonely and isolated suddenly. He turned his head to look seriously at Frodo, a look that seemed very out of place on his young, always smiling face.
"Yes, of course I will Merry." Frodo had been expecting the question, but it still made him hurt for his young friend. He knew Merry wouldn't understand about the whole thing, but he had tried to think of a way to explain it to him. "We won't see each other as much, of course, but I have a feeling we will be friends for a very long time."
"You aren't sick of me?" the child asked, a bit more spiritedly this time.
"Now why would I be sick of you?" Frodo wondered out loud. True, Merry could be a nuisance, but he was also a very close friend.
"Because you are a tweenager now and I'm still a little kid. No other tweenager likes playing with us kids, they say we're imma- imma-"
"Immature?" Merry nodded as Frodo pronounced the word he was thinking of. "Well that would be rather unfair of me. I'm really not that much more mature than you." Okay, it was a bit of a stretch, but in a way it was true.
"I guess.... Does that mean you still wanna be my friend?" Merry asked again. Frodo smiled and squeezed his cousin's shoudler gently.
"Of course I still want to be your friend, you little nuisance. And just think of all the marvelous adventures we can go on in Hobbiton. You haven't seen much of it at all. We could do a lot of new things here." Merry nodded enthusiastically, much to Frodo's relief. They were still friends.
