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auntiemeeshAs therapy to help me recover from the trauma of writing Waves last night, I wrote this little piece of untitled fluff. At the time this was set, Merry was nine and Frodo twenty-three.
He crept down the tunnel, as silent as only a creeping hobbit can be. Eyes wide open, he looked left and right, hyper-alert for any hint of danger. So far all was clear. Placing his feet carefully, he continued, stopping every few feet to listen and look about. There, what was that? Was it the echo of flapping feet in the dark? He froze, ears straining. No, whatever he thought he’d heard, there was nothing now. Waiting another minute, he finally continued on.
Long minutes later, he was nearing his destination. A light was glowing from the chamber ahead and he inched forward, oh so slowly. Every sense wide open for the first hint of trouble, he cautiously peeked one eye around the corner. There was a fire burning in a grate against the far wall but there was no sign of life in the room. Feeling bolder now, he straightened up and walked forward openly. A second later, his feet were swept out from under him and squealing in terror, he found himself dangling, upside down, several inches off the floor.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” a menacing voice growled from behind him. “A thief perhaps, after our treasure?”
“Put me down, Frodo!” Merry exclaimed, kicking and twisting as he tried to free himself.
With a laugh, Frodo lowered Merry headfirst to the ground, where Merry rolled his neck and allowed his older cousin to stretch him out full-length upon the floor of Bag End’s kitchen.
“All right, Merry,” Frodo leaned over the youngster sternly. “What are you doing out of bed this late at night?”
“I was hungry.” Merry managed to imbue his tone with a rather desperately forlorn tone, but Frodo only laughed again. Reaching down, he helped Merry stand up.
“So you decided to sneak down to the kitchen, in the middle of the night, for a little bite of something, is that correct?” Frodo couldn’t help but smile at the expression on the child’s face. “We’ll have to work on your sneaking skills, Merry. You woke me up when you knocked over the umbrella stand. Whatever were you doing in the entrance hall, anyway?”
Merry hung his head, embarrassed. “I got a little turned around in the dark,” he mumbled, almost under his breath.
“No matter, now that I’m up, I could do with a little bite of something, as well.” Taking his young cousin’s hand, Frodo led Merry to the table. “You just sit here and I’ll get us a snack. But then it’s right back to bed for you, Meriadoc Brandybuck.”
Frodo bustled about the kitchen, moving quietly so as not to disturb Bilbo or the other houseguests. Within minutes he had gathered a plate of seedcakes, cheese and sliced fruit, which he placed on the table before pouring out a mug of warm milk for each of them.
By the time he had finished his milk, Merry’s eyes were heavy and he was feeling very sleepy. Giving vent to a huge yawn, he laid his head down on the table, just for a moment.
“Come here, now,” Frodo said as he gently scooped the half-asleep child up in his arms. “Let’s get you back to bed now.” Walking softly, he carried Merry back to his room and settled him in his bed, tucking him under warm blankets.
Turning to go, he heard a sleepy voice mumble, “Nigh’ Fro.”
Smiling softly in the dark, he turned back and kissed Merry on the forehead. “Goodnight, dearest. Go back to sleep, now.” Merry mumbled something incoherent, snuggled up under his covers and was soon fast asleep. With a gentle smile, Frodo closed the child’s door and returned to the kitchen, cleaning up the mess before returning to his own interrupted sleep.
He crept down the tunnel, as silent as only a creeping hobbit can be. Eyes wide open, he looked left and right, hyper-alert for any hint of danger. So far all was clear. Placing his feet carefully, he continued, stopping every few feet to listen and look about. There, what was that? Was it the echo of flapping feet in the dark? He froze, ears straining. No, whatever he thought he’d heard, there was nothing now. Waiting another minute, he finally continued on.
Long minutes later, he was nearing his destination. A light was glowing from the chamber ahead and he inched forward, oh so slowly. Every sense wide open for the first hint of trouble, he cautiously peeked one eye around the corner. There was a fire burning in a grate against the far wall but there was no sign of life in the room. Feeling bolder now, he straightened up and walked forward openly. A second later, his feet were swept out from under him and squealing in terror, he found himself dangling, upside down, several inches off the floor.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?” a menacing voice growled from behind him. “A thief perhaps, after our treasure?”
“Put me down, Frodo!” Merry exclaimed, kicking and twisting as he tried to free himself.
With a laugh, Frodo lowered Merry headfirst to the ground, where Merry rolled his neck and allowed his older cousin to stretch him out full-length upon the floor of Bag End’s kitchen.
“All right, Merry,” Frodo leaned over the youngster sternly. “What are you doing out of bed this late at night?”
“I was hungry.” Merry managed to imbue his tone with a rather desperately forlorn tone, but Frodo only laughed again. Reaching down, he helped Merry stand up.
“So you decided to sneak down to the kitchen, in the middle of the night, for a little bite of something, is that correct?” Frodo couldn’t help but smile at the expression on the child’s face. “We’ll have to work on your sneaking skills, Merry. You woke me up when you knocked over the umbrella stand. Whatever were you doing in the entrance hall, anyway?”
Merry hung his head, embarrassed. “I got a little turned around in the dark,” he mumbled, almost under his breath.
“No matter, now that I’m up, I could do with a little bite of something, as well.” Taking his young cousin’s hand, Frodo led Merry to the table. “You just sit here and I’ll get us a snack. But then it’s right back to bed for you, Meriadoc Brandybuck.”
Frodo bustled about the kitchen, moving quietly so as not to disturb Bilbo or the other houseguests. Within minutes he had gathered a plate of seedcakes, cheese and sliced fruit, which he placed on the table before pouring out a mug of warm milk for each of them.
By the time he had finished his milk, Merry’s eyes were heavy and he was feeling very sleepy. Giving vent to a huge yawn, he laid his head down on the table, just for a moment.
“Come here, now,” Frodo said as he gently scooped the half-asleep child up in his arms. “Let’s get you back to bed now.” Walking softly, he carried Merry back to his room and settled him in his bed, tucking him under warm blankets.
Turning to go, he heard a sleepy voice mumble, “Nigh’ Fro.”
Smiling softly in the dark, he turned back and kissed Merry on the forehead. “Goodnight, dearest. Go back to sleep, now.” Merry mumbled something incoherent, snuggled up under his covers and was soon fast asleep. With a gentle smile, Frodo closed the child’s door and returned to the kitchen, cleaning up the mess before returning to his own interrupted sleep.
