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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-04
Completed:
2004-12-06
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6,033
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3/3
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8
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Drawn From Life (20th September SR 1413)

Summary:

Pre-quest, book-based friendship fic, starring six hobbits, a house, a garden and an awful lot of charcoal and paint...

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Chapter Text

7.05 am

"Merry. Must you stand just there? You're blocking out the light."

Well, thought Merry, I am certainly back in Bag End. I've not even washed my face yet after a night-long walk, and already I'm being ordered around by a scribbling tweenager.

"Of course, Pippin," he smiled, and stepped sidewise by perhaps three inches. Pippin raised a stern eyebrow, so Merry gave an exaggerated sigh and wandered over to the door into the hall. He turned back to watch for a while.

Skritch skritch. Skritch skritch.

Pippin's nimble little fingers stroked the charcoal restlessly against his page, the lines emerging from the paper like the pattern of the ground after a thaw. Or so Merry assumed. All he could actually see of the new masterpiece was his cousin's left hand pressed firmly down beside it to prevent anybody looking.

"Are you going to show us what you've done so far?" asked Folco Boffin, who stood well clear of Pippin's light, propped against a bookcase with an amused expression.

"No, not yet," said Pippin, his gaze fixed on the small arrangement of fruit, plates and ornaments that he had spread out on the little oak table in front of him. With showy deliberation he held his right hand out at arm's length and measured the scale of one of the apples, before resuming his labours.

Skritch skritch. Skritch skritch. Skritchy-skritch.

"I hope you've got permission to make this mess all over Frodo's second-best parlour," interjected Fatty. "And I don't think you should be wearing your yellow waistcoat when you're using charcoal. You'll get it all over yourself, and then poor Sam will have to do your laundry twice more before you go back to the Smials."

"You're casting a shadow on the plums, Fredegar" said Pippin, mildly. "And on Bilbo's oliphaunts. Look, why can't you go and bother Frodo or something? That goes for all of you. I'm working."

Folco laughed and strode from the room, clapping Fatty on the shoulder as he went. Fatty scowled but followed loyally in his wake.

Merry leaned against the doorframe and watched them go. He smiled a little. But turning back to Pippin he found the young hobbit was already hunched back over his work, paying him no attention at all.

"I'll say goodbye for now then, Pippin," said Merry. At this point, he recalled, he would usually say something wry and mocking, which would bring forth at the very least a chuckle, and probably a conversation too. But his head was oddly empty of words.

Pippin appeared to notice a very slight smudge of charcoal on his left hand, drew a handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed it clean. He blew on the paper in front of him, then turned to Merry and beamed at him.

"I'm glad you're here," he said, "things will be much more fun." But then he turned back to his page and his drawing and those silly black sticks of his, and Merry wandered off to his guest room feeling strangely despondent.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

7.28am

"Hello Merry!" said Frodo. "Careful, there are papers all over the floor. Would you mind moving a little to your left?"

Merry obliged, and, peering further into the study, discovered that Frodo was putting the finishing touches to an inked, large-scale version of one of Bilbo's maps, presumably intended as a birthday present for one of the elderly members of the family. This was characteristic. And today, rather irritating.

"How was the walk?" asked Frodo, picking his way carefully across the room, between old books, documents and half-empty cups of tea. "Have you fellows had breakfast yet? I can see you've washed and changed."

"Oh, the walk was lovely," said Merry, absently. "Rather cloudy though, and misty in the early hours. Fatty swore he could see the Sickle but Folco and I could barely make out the moon so we think he was making it up. Frodo, when was the last time you let Sam in here to tidy?"

Frodo appeared to ponder this.

"Last Wednesday, I think. Why, do you think it could do with a dust?"

Merry laughed. "You're impossible, cousin. I'm not too young to remember you clearing this room up after Bilbo, and now look at it!"

"Well, I'm older now, Merry," said Frodo. And for just a moment his eyes seemed to drift off somewhere else. Merry felt a rush of anxiety.

But in an instant Frodo recovered himself, and he fixed Merry with a thoughtful smile. "Well now," he said, "I've hardly had a chance to speak to you since you arrived yesterday. How is everyone at the Hall?"

"Oh, fine, fine. The harvest has been excellent so far. Surprisingly good, actually. The surplus looks set to be more than we've had for five years or more." He paused. There was always much to tell about the goings on in Buckland, but amusing anecdotes from family he remembered was what Frodo was after, and at 7.30 in the morning after a night-ramble, however pleasant, Merry's memory was dry. "I'll tell you more over breakfast if you like." He cleared his throat. "How are preparations for the party?"

"Oh, well enough. It won't be a spectacular occasion, I'm afraid. Well, it never has been since..."

"Of course."

"But still, it should be pleasant. Folco and Fatty have been a great help, and Pippin too when he hasn't been up to his eyeballs in charcoal dust and paints! And Sam is a blessing. Don't know what I'd do without him." Frodo picked up one of his abandoned teacups, looked inside it and made a face. "I think this has whelped."

Merry laughed. "I'm sorry I can't be much help this year. Oh, and before I forget, Mother sends her apologies. She would have liked to see you. And to drink Bilbo's health. She's one of the few who still does."

"I know, Merry. Things are difficult at this time of year. I'm just grateful that the family were able to spare you for a few days. It wouldn't be the same without you, you know."

Merry gave a half-hearted smile, which he tried to lift into a grin, but probably came out more as a grimace.

"Anyway, did I gather that you still haven't had breakfast?"

"All too true, I'm afraid."

"Merry, my dear cousin, you are definitely slipping. Fatty and Folco aren't with you. And assuming you haven't left them in a field somewhere..."

"You know, the idea did occur to me..."

"I think you and I had better go and make ourselves something before they eat it all."