"Hurry up, Merry. What's the note say?" Pippin kicked aside the wrinkled sheet, then stretched and yawned as wide as he could.
Clad entirely in goosebumps, Merry walked slowly back to the bed, peering at a small envelope in his hand. Obviously, someone had pushed it under the door. And possibly not that long ago. He sincerely hoped it had not been while Pippin was demonstrating that extraordinary thing one could do with raspberry jam. Blushing a little, Merry turned the envelope over, pulled up the flap, then slid back in the bed next to Pippin.
"It looks very much like my mother's stationary." Merry held the little envelope up to his nose and sniffed. "That's her scent, too." Inside was a small folded sheet of lavender-colored paper, covered in a neat square hand. Settling back against the pillows, he flipped the note open and read aloud:
"'Good morning, my extraordinary Meriadoc and I hope you are indeed exceedingly merry. Please have the good sense to join your father and I for breakfast at half past nine and by all means, see that the exceptional Peregrin brings himself as well. We shall be having teabread with lemon butter, mounds of scrambled eggs, bacon, minced fried potatoes, and a delightful rhubarb custard. Not to mention a huge amount of tea. Do not waste time. Your father and I, as you are well aware, have quite a Passion for breakfast. Look sharp. Esmeralda.'"
"Hmm." Pippin looked sideways at the little note. "What time is it now? And whatever shall we say to them?"
Merry folded the note and slipped it back into the envelope. "I suspect it's not gone nine yet. And I further suspect that whatever we might tell them, they already know."
"I suppose you're right." Pippin curled up with his head on Merry's stomach. "But they're your parents, Merry. Even though I love them nearly as much as my own, I know they've doubted my sanity on more than one occasion. Probably yours as well." His head bounced a little as Merry chuckled. "You know I've not always been in their good graces. I don't doubt they'll think you've gone totally mad. Although..." Pippin's fingers brushed gently through the curly hairs sprinkled across Merry's chest. "I did hear Aunt Tansy tell Uncle Meri that I'm quite a good catch." He frowned at the resounding snort above his head and pushed himself up on one elbow. "Don't be so quick to laugh. I'll have you know she most especially considers me exceedingly prime, robust and far from decrepit." He dropped his head back onto Merry's stomach. "Her very words. And you're rumbling. I can hear it."
"I am not." Merry frowned. "Your ears are full of your own rumblings, that's all. And you know you shouldn't have been eavesdropping."
Pippin sat up, grabbed his pillow and gave it a vigorous plumping. "I was not eavesdropping. They sat down right next to Aunt Fresythia's overgrown hydrangeas and I just happened to be on the other side." The pillow had begun to assume a rather extraordinary shape. "I was right in the middle of a cream custard and it would have been rude to interrupt them with a face full of whipped cream."
"Pippin..."
The pillow was now well and fairy plumped, almost beyond recognition. "And I am not so ignorant as all that, despite what Great Uncle Bogburn might say."
"Pippin, stop!" Merry grabbed the pillow and set it behind him, waving the invitation in Pippin's face. "What are you doing? It's just breakfast and my parents have better things to eat than us. So, screw your head back on right and be sensible. Like a Brandybuck." He leaned back against the pillows again, fanning himself with the note. "Like me."
Pippin crossed his arms and stared. "My dear cousin. A Brandybuck? Making sense? If you tied every Brandybuck together, and I include every cousin as far away as The Green Dragon, they'd none of them find their way home if you gave them a week and a pocketwatch."
Merry's eyes narrowed. "Is that right..." With a deft flick, he sent the little note sailing across the room, then grabbed the hapless pillow and sent it in the same direction. Pippin had approximately two seconds at best in which to either run or duck. Failing both, he settled for a mad dash under the covers where he was summarily cornered at the footboard.
And then, what with one thing and another, it was some time before they untangled themselves from the sheets, caught their breath, and tumbled out of bed to get ready for their morning call.
Fifteen minutes later by the old clock in the hall, they were washed, brushed and dressed. It was now almost nine thirty and for some reason, Pippin felt like a nail waiting for the hammer to drop.
"Do you suppose they'll be angry? Or think we've gone completely mad?" Pippin stood near the bedroom door, dressed in a fine morning coat of pale gold. He'd shoved his fists deep into the pockets and was shifting from foot to foot, his face set in a furious frown. What with the war between hunger and anxiety going on in his stomach, he hardly knew whether to laugh or cry.
Across the room, Merry frowned at the mirror, attempting to placate one last curl. It was proving next to impossible. "Pippin. You're making far too much of this. Don't look for crows before they hatch. You'll ruin your appetite."
"But Merry... Suppose, just suppose they had their hearts set on grandchildren and there's no way we can manage that. Maybe your mother has dreams of sewing little dresses or fancy Brandybuck waistcoats and now she's got nothing to look forward to." Pippin slipped a finger behind his morning tie, which seemed to have grown unaccountably tight.
Merry cocked his head, laughing silently at Pippin's reflection. "You great toad of a Took, have you never noticed that I'm an only child?" Ignoring the tongue waggling in his direction, he tossed the comb down and turned around. "I love my parents very much and they love me. But as my father likes to say, 'Children are a delight, particularly the ones that belong to other people'. So..." He folded his arms and grinned. "I really don't think we need to have any babies."
Pippin felt the heat rise in his cheeks, but as the last word was a Tookish specialty... "You may think that's the end of it, but did you bother to ask me?" He opened the door with a flourish and bowed. "I should like two boys and a girl, if you don't mind."
He reached the top of the stairs before the comb hit the wall.
At promptly half past nine, Esmeralda Brandybuck opened the door to the Master's apartments, greeted her guests with a happy shout, then pulled them both bodily into the private parlor.
"Exquisite, my dears. So on time, it's frightening. Come, sit down. Sad, empty plates await your bottomless stomachs." With a tiny pat on both their cheeks, she smiled and swirled her way across the room.
Merry laughed and bowed. "I love you, too, Mother." He pulled Pippin to the groaning table and handed him a plate. "You know how this goes, cousin."
Pippin nodded. "Fill, empty, fill, empty, fill..."
Merry laughed again and picked up his own plate. For the next few minutes, the only sound was the clink of cutlery as plates disappeared under heaps of everything in sight. After assuring themselves that there was more than enough for seconds and thirds, Merry and Pippin carried their plates to a small breakfast table covered in a deep green tablecloth. Chairs were pulled as close as possible to the table, tea cups were turned upright, napkins were strategically draped, and two hungry hobbits settled down to making a dent in the enormous amount of food at their disposal.
Esmeralda chuckled and placed a well-mounded plate on the table before sitting down between the two young hobbits. "Wonderful, indeed, to see such tucking in and shoveling down. You are almost as good as your father, Meriadoc. And speaking of my darling Saradoc, I expect he should be along any moment. We had word of a small problem in the wash house this morning. Something about a green chicken." She sent a sparkling glance toward Pippin. "Not one of yours, is it...?" Eyes wide, he shook his head. Esmeralda ignored the conniption from Merry's side of the table and eyed her forkful of scrambled eggs, perhaps questioning their possible connexion with the chicken. "Good. One Peregrin incident per week is about all this old Hall can take." And the scrambled eggs disappeared into her wide mouth, while on both sides, Merry and Pippin saw fit to tuck in once more and save the words for afters.
It wasn't long before footsteps sounded from the sitting room and the inner door burst open. "Hallo, my dears! Left anything for me?" Huffing a little from his climb up the back stairs, the Master of Brandy Hall cast his benevolent smile upon the breakfast tableau. "That blasted chicken had me cornered for a moment, but I've managed to escape." His hearty laugh rang through the room as he stomped over to the serving table and proceeded to heap a platter with just about as much as it could hold.
Merry and Pippin glanced at each other quickly, then decided the best part of valor in this instance rested upon the expedient use of knife and fork.
Saradoc Brandybuck sat himself down opposite his wife, unbuttoned his embroidered waistcoat and picked up a large slice of tea bread upon which he proceeded to spread large dollops of lemon butter. "Well, my lads, well and well. Whatever have you gone and done now?" He smiled at both young hobbits and a ray of sunshine seemed to light the room. It was Merry's smile all to pieces.
Trembling a little, Pippin found himself unable to swallow the bite of potatoes now lodged in his throat. But then Merry looked at him, waggling one eyebrow. Choking back a laugh, Pippin grabbed his tea and managed to swallow enough to clear both his throat and his head. Cheeks redder than new apples, he smiled at the elder Brandybuck. "Don't you know that only half the stories they tell about us are true? And even those should be put to a vote."
Saradoc chuckled round a mouthful teabread. "Ah, yes. But I'm not referring to chickens or birthday cakes, you know."
Biting his lip, Pippin caught the laughter in the Master's eyes and sighed. "Yes. I know."
"Now, Father, we didn't mean to..." Merry looked at Pippin and felt all of his words run away.
"What Merry means... Well, we didn't expect to, to..." Pippin's mouth grappled with air as he looked helplessly back at Merry.
The Master and his wife exchanged knowing looks.
"To what, my dear?" Esmeralda's voice was gentle but firm as she emptied her spoon of rhubarb custard.
Pippin shrank a little in his chair. "Well,...ma'am...you see, you might have wanted...umm...babies. And we... Oh, my..." Cheeks afire, Pippin looked at the last piece of bacon on his plate and thought that he should have begun by shutting up.
Esmeralda sat back, her plump body shaking with silent laughter. "I expect, you dear Took, we ought to be glad there will be no babies. Twice as many of the both of you, no matter who you might have married, would have been far too taxing. And I'm sure you would have had bundles and bundles of babies." She fanned herself with the last of the tea bread. "Oh, my. Babies... It will take forever for this place to recover from Meadoweed's brood alone!"
"Mother, really. We didn't know this would happen..."
As the color in Merry's cheeks rose to match Pippin's, Esmeralda put the tea bread down to lay a gentle hand against his cheek. "Now just you never mind. All that I wish for, and your father as well, is for you to be as happy as we have been. And if the next 26 years with this young Took are anything like the first 26, well..." Pursing her lips, she sent a sharp glance in Pippin's direction. "...I imagine you will laugh a great deal." Taking up the teapot, she began to pour, filling each of their cups to the brim. "Or else grind your teeth to the nubs, I'm sure I don't know which."
Saradoc chuckled and placed a fresh piece of bacon on Pippin's plate. "Here, you young scamp of a Took. My son has chosen to spend his life with you." He spoke quietly, his voice redolent with many years of Brandybuck wisdom. Pippin sat mesmerized. "It would be folly to gainsay him, merely to insist upon heirs. And as he will still be Master of Buckland one day, I leave it to him to pass the title where he will." Saradoc laid a warm hand upon Pippin's shoulder. "You are always welcome in this family, Master Took, you and yours." He grinned. "I shall write to your father in a week or so, after you've had a chance to see him."
Still blushing furiously, Pippin managed to nod before grinning across at Merry.
"And now..." Saradoc raised his brimming cup. "...a toast, if you please." He paused until all cups were raised. "This is a day of joy to us all. And as such, I give you pleasant skies and Brandybeer pies, my lads. All that one could wish and more."
With a hearty whoop from Esmeralda, the toast was drunk and, as is ever the nature of hobbits when the worst of fears is given the heave-ho, the splendid breakfast recommenced with admirable fortitude.
Nearly an hour later, two pleasantly full, extraordinarily happy and quite laughed out young hobbits took their leave of the Master and Mistress of Brandy Hall. As no food to speak of was left anywhere in the room, Esmeralda elected to escort them to the door.
"We shall all do very well, you know." She planted a firm kiss on each of their cheeks. "We are Brandybucks and Tooks, after all. Nothing dare stand in our way."
Then, as they crossed the threshold, Esmeralda held them back a moment. "One more thing, my dears." She lowered her voice and smiled sweetly. "Always remember: a little butter on the earlobes goes quite well with raspberry jam."
Eyes wide, two young hobbits watched as the door gently closed behind her.
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