Frodo slowed his stride even more, checking behind him to make sure both of the younger hobbits were keeping up. Merry caught his eyes, and quickly ran up to meet him.
"How come we gotta baby-sit him all day?" he asked, glaring back at Pippin, who was trying valiantly to keep up, despite his much smaller legs. "We can't do anything with the baby with us..." He sighed in frustration.
Frodo smiled, and chose not to point out the irony of Merry's statement. "Don't worry, there's plenty we can still do."
Merry snorted. "Yeah, like what? We can't play any good games, he's too little and couldn't catch anyway. We can't go anywhere near the river, or Aunt Eglatine would kill us. We can't do anything really fun, because he can't run fast enough. Today's gonna be really boring and it's all his fault!"
Merry gave Frodo a look, pleading for a good activity for the day. "Well... we could always... Pippin, what are you doing?" Frodo asked, as the youngest lad started slipping purposefully down the steep hill leading to the Brandywine River.
"Bear falled. See?" he said, pointing at a scraggly bush that had stopped the bear's roll near the bottom of the hill.
"Why did he even bring that silly bear with him?" Merry asked impatiently, watching as Pippin continued to slide feet first, mud leaving long streaks on the back of his shirt. "It was going to get in the way no matter what we did."
"I'm sure he wasn't thinking about that," Frodo said with a wince. "I think I'm going to be killed for all the stains he's collecting. Pippin! Why don't you wait for me! I'll get your bear for you."
The younger lad shook his head. "Nuh-uh... I mean, no thank you, Cousin Frodo. I can get it myself," he said, continuing to slide down the hill. Halfway down, he had stopped pushing with his feet, allowing gravity to move for him.
"Should he really get that close to the bank?" Merry asked, seeing Pippin slowly losing control of his slide, speeding faster and faster towards the edge of the river. In fact, he had passed the bush several feet ago, the bear coming loose and not slowing him in the slightest. Pippin whimpered loudly as he realized he was in trouble. He had broken out of the more plant filled hill, and onto the main bank of the river. Frodo was off after him like an arrow, racing down the hill as if it were flat land. Merry followed behind, a bit more slowly, being sure to keep his footing. Frodo had covered nearly the full length of the hill within a few seconds. It seemed that he was going to catch him in time, but as Frodo reached out to grab him, Pippin fell into the water.
Fortunately, he was hauled out of the water before he even had time to submerge. Unfortunately, that was all the time it took for him to lose his grip on the bear. There it was, bobbing in the current of the river, being carried swiftly away. "Save him!" the distraught young Pippin cried. He reached out his arms as far as they would go, trying his hardest to save his beloved friend. Without any more thought and only the barest hint of a sigh, Frodo leapt into the water. Both young lads held their breaths, and their hearts seemed to stop until they saw their cousin's face splutter to the surface. Pippin stared after Frodo, amazed at his cousin's bravery in the face of such a perilous enemy. "What's he doing?" he whispered breathlessly, his voice just barely audible over the swirling water. "He's saving your bear. Don't ask stupid questions," Merry said, all of his attention on Frodo. Pippin moved closer to Merry, eyes wide with fear. "He's not going under the water!" he said, voice getting shrill with nervousness. "Why isn't he going under the water?" Pippin watched, his features frozen in a mixture of fear and awe. "He's swimming," Merry explained. Seeing the look on Pippin's face, he continued. "A lot of us that live at the Hall learn to. Frodo learned when he was younger." "Why?" "Because of something that happened when he was little. Nobody really talks about it," Merry answered, not really feeling right trying to explain what happened to Frodo's parents; he hardly knew himself. He only knew it was the reason Frodo had never allowed himself to be afraid of water. Pippin looked up at Merry, and even at such a young age recognized the facial expression: he wasn't going to get any more out of Merry, at least until Frodo was back on dry land.
A hand came up, depositing a soggy lump of brown fabric on the shore. "BEAR!" Pippin screamed, throwing himself at the dripping bear, squeezing it to his chest. Water poured from it like a wrung dishrag, spilling all over him. Any questions that may have remained were displaced instantly.
"I think I have a name for your bear, Pip," Frodo said breathlessly, with a sideways grin. "'Brandywine' seems a rather fitting name, don't you think?"
"I think that's a bit too long, Frodo," Merry said, as Pippin stumbled on the word. "'Brandy' will have to do for now."
"Brandy!" Pippin said happily, hugging the bear even harder to his chest, soaking himself with even more river water. He looked up briefly, the latched on to Frodo's leg. "Thank you, Frodo! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
"Not a problem, Pippin. Just... stay away from water until we've taught you how to swim, okay?" Pippin nodded, eyes never leaving Frodo. "I think we should head home now." Merry and Pippin nodded their heads, nearly taking the lead.
Not even four steps into their trek, Pippin fell back, and held out his arms to Frodo. His older cousin picked him up, and Pippin rode home in the arms of his hero.