“You’re so lucky to know me, Frodo,” said Pippin with a contented smile.
“Lucky? Pippin, I shouldn’t even be seen with you anymore!” Frodo tried to sound stern, but no one could ever be too stern with Pippin. Besides, the mushrooms his young cousin had liberated (Frodo didn’t dare ask from where), and brought him, were just too scrumptious.
“Look at that,” Frodo continued, motioning to all of Hobbiton spread out below them. The view from the top of The Hill above Bag End, where the three cousins were sitting, really was beautiful. “People are already starting to mutter about another cracked Baggins living up here -- thanks, I’m sure, to dear Lobelia. I need to begin consorting with more reputable folk than my out-of-control cousins.”
“But we’re completely in control,” argued Pippin. “Merry always comes up with the most perfectly executed plans, and I follow his orders to the letter.” He popped another delicious deep-fried mushroom into his mouth. “Why, think of how it would be without us around, cousin Frodo! You’d be rattling around up here with no excitement at all.”
“And no mushrooms,” added Merry. “You didn’t cook these, Frodo, and don’t try to tell us you did.”
“Sam did,” admitted Frodo, “but I could have if I wanted to.” He rolled over onto his back and laced his fingers beneath his head. “It’s been months; where do you think he is?”
“Who, Sam?” asked Merry.
“Bilbo,” sighed Frodo. “It’s nearly winter, and he could be anywhere.”
“Frodo,” asked Pippin quietly, “Do you think he’s ever coming back?”
“I wish I knew. I think…” Frodo was quiet for a moment. “I think he was starting to feel old, Pip, and wanted to go on one last adventure somewhere.”
“Bilbo was never old,” Pippin said admiringly. “It was really quite amazing. He had some magic about him, don’t think he didn’t.” He lay his head companionably on Frodo’s stomach. “He’ll be just fine, Frodo.”
“And he loves you.” Merry, on Frodo’s other side, lay down and planted his head next to Pippin’s. “He’ll be in touch -- or at least send Gandalf around to say hello.”
“Gandalf never comes around to just ‘say hello’.” Frodo sat up, dumping his cousins’ heads onto the grass and plucking the last mushroom from the bowl. “You should thank Sam for these, before you leave.”
Merry smiled. “I never asked him how it was, you know.”
“How what was?”
“Dancing with Rose Cotton. Finally.”
“Oh,” Frodo said with a grin. “Every time her name comes up, he blushes and practically loses the power of speech.” He chuckled. “When I asked him that very question, the day after the Party, he mumbled something like, ‘Oh, it was fine, sir. Just fine.’ And then he turned bright pink and busied himself with some seedling or other.”
“I like Sam,” said Pippin. “I think I like everybody, except the S.-B.’s.”
“They don’t think much of me, these days,” Frodo said, “if they ever did.”
“That’s because they think you’re sitting up here, laughing at them,” said Merry.
Frodo stared at him in amazement. “Why would they think that?”
Merry groaned. “Don’t you know? Because that’s what they would do if they ever got their claws into this place. They’d drag chairs up here and look down on ‘their town’ and laugh their heads off.”
“Frodo can’t imagine anyone acting like that, Mer,” said Pippin. “He’s too nice.”
“Not to mention rich,” Merry grinned.
“And good looking,” added Pippin. “Dangerous combination, that.”
“You can see The Water from here,” said Frodo casually. “I wonder how long it would take the body of a Took or a Brandybuck to reach it, if they were tossed off The Hill?” He nudged Pippin. “You two are so interchangeable these days, I doubt one of you would be missed, if the other was still about.”
“I’d be missed,” Pippin stated firmly. He eyed Merry speculatively. “We could see how far Merry’s body would get, though…” His eyes lit up. “You know, if we brought Gandalf’s cart up here, and put Merry in it, and gave the whole thing a push…”
“I’m the one who needs to begin consorting with more reputable folk,” said Merry.
“You do that, Mer, and see how boring it is,” Pippin sighed. “We need to stick close to Frodo, here, and something adventurous is bound to happen.”
“I don’t want any adventures,” said Frodo with a frown, “not if it means leaving the Shire like Bilbo. I love it here.” His gaze swept over the meadows, and the river, and out into the far-off trees. “Still, I do wonder what’s out there…”
“Mushrooms,” said Pippin dreamily. “Nothing but miles and miles of mushrooms, as far as the eye can see.”
“He’s the cracked one,” chuckled Merry. “Why do you think I keep such a close eye on him, Frodo?”
“Cracked,” muttered Frodo. “If I hear that word one more time…”
“The next time anyone calls you ‘cracked’, just say you’re proud of it!” declared Pippin. “That’ll make ‘em even more confused, and maybe they’ll stop saying it.”
“Good idea, Pip,” mused Frodo. “I think I might just do that.”
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