Chapter Two
The whole process was a tedious one; sneaking into the barn was not as easy as Merry had remembered. A few years' vine growth over the board had woven the slats together, and mud had settled around its base. Pippin stood and supervised Merry's digging and pulling, urging him on, jumping up and down with boundless energy despite the freezing temperature and gusts of wind and rain.
The board finally gave and sprang forward, just missing Merry's forehead. The space seemed much smaller to Merry, and seeing the trouble he was having fitting into the tiny hole, Pippin offered to fetch Poppy from her doom.
Poppy, unaware of the impending danger, was comfortably nestled in a warm, dry nest, completely oblivious to the hobbit's plight, and quite unwilling to be picked up by a hobbit lad only slightly bigger than she. Struggling to keep his grip on the unhappy bird, Pippin made his way back to the makeshift door.
Merry saw the flying feathers first, and then the hen, who was shoved, anything but carefully, through the tiny hole. Next came Pippin, arms scratched and bleeding.
"Pip! Look at you!" Merry cried, running his fingers over the scratches.
"Please, Merry, I'm fine!" Pippin squirmed out of his grip. The sudden cease of Pippin's wiggling alerted Merry to oncoming danger. One look at his younger cousin's face confirmed the fact. Caught in the act.