An Autumn Interlude, Part II: Reminding

"You look so harmless when you're asleep."

Merry yawned and rolled over. He found himself staring up into a pair of familiar hazel-green eyes, and wondered fleetingly why he hadn't started bolting his bedroom door.

"What're you doing here? How did you get--"

"Merry-love, you sleep like a rock," Everard assured him, tugging the covers down and slipping into bed beside his cousin. He nuzzled Merry's cheek before planting a soft kiss there.

Merry yawned again, rolled over, and buried his face in the pillow. "If I don't have to be up yet, then I suggest you just...just...Ev, what--"

Everard chuckled and pinched Merry's side again. "The apples, or have you forgotten?"

"Oh, picking. Well, maybe I've decided it won't be any fun."

"Nothing's fun for you unless it's not planned."

Merry shrugged. "Maybe. This was terribly planned, unfortunately."

"You'll have plenty of chances to steal a few, I'm sure," Everard said, tugging Merry to face him. "Besides, it's for your Da's grand to-do, isn't it? You'll be eatin' them regardless. In pie. Oh, come here, you--"

"I'm not awake yet." Merry hid in his pillow again.

"You're talking." Everard ran his fingers down Merry's back in a gentle sweep. "And besides, up at the pool last week, you didn't terribly mind me waking--"

"I mind now," Merry snapped, scooting away. "It's what you did after that I minded."

"If I hadn't spotted him and told him to get down from there, he might've fallen--"

"You weren't very kind about it."

Everard groaned. "Merry, he was spying."

Merry rolled over and jabbed a finger to Everard's chest. "We got ideas by spying."

"He's too young to get ideas."

"He has four sisters with lads in and out more often than Mum dips her crackers at tea. He's seen worse," Merry said, allowing his forehead to drop to Everard's shoulder. "I just...Why are you so hard on Pip? He gets into everything and it's a terrible nuisance, yes, but he hasn't got many places to fit in, and if we don't take him, then--"

Everard kissed Merry's earlobe. "Shh--"

Merry pushed at his shoulder. "Ev."

Everard sighed and rolled away, but not before brushing his fingers through Merry's curls. "I'm sorry. I suppose I don't know a second chance when I see one."

"Ten minutes," Merry grumbled. "I'll be up." He closed his eyes until he heard the door close, then sprawled on his back and stared at the ceiling.

You had better learn to before it's too late.

* * *

"Merry, dear, come down from here this instant. You'll take a fall before the day's out, for pity's sake. Your head's worse in the clouds today than Frodo's ever was."

"I'm fine, Mum," Merry grumbled, plucking another of the firm, green-washed apples. He liked this sort. They didn't particularly match at all, and they were certainly more interesting than straight reds and golds.

"Tell it to Pip when he arrives tomorrow and you're laid up with a sprain, or worse!" Esmerelda called and went back to her own knocking apples down with the flat side of a rake.

"I won't be. I'll be keeping him from getting a sprain, or worse." Far worse. Last year, Paladin had permitted Pippin to help with the picking. By all accounts, after a fall like that, Pippin was fortunate to maintain a general fearlessness of heights. They hadn't even seen him climb the sapling at the far end of the orchard, but they had heard him scream. Since then, he'd moved on to more challenging targets, and with stunning success.

"I'll help. I promise," Everard said from below, scanning the ground for fallen apples free of any rot.

"I'm sure you will," Merry said dryly, and pondered taking a bite of his most recent pluck.

"Meriadoc, don't you dare."

"Of course not, Mum."

The morning progressed rather quietly from that point on; by then, miscellaneous other Brandybucks and visiting relatives had joined the fray. Once Merry had finished scouring the general vicinity of the branch he was perched upon, he slid down a bit lower and chose an apple smaller than most, not quite ripe. It hit Everard squarely where he had intended it.

"Augh! Merry, you get down--"

"No," Merry replied, grinning as he pulled himself carefully back up to where he'd been. He sat and smirked down at Everard's indignant glare, trying not to laugh.

"Just what do you think you're--"

"Get up here."

Everard's face softened, and within a minute or two, he was more or less level with Merry, but a bit winded.

"You don't practice enough," Merry accused, picking a leaf out of his hair.

"You practice too much," Everard countered, brushing a few out of Merry's. "You'll have to grow up sooner or--"

Merry burst into laughter. "Oh, cousin, with Pip growing up, I don't see as I have much choice! Who else will keep up with--"

Everard tilted his head. "Did you bring me up here to discuss--"

"I did," Merry said casually, "and it would work a lot better if we stopped cutting each other to the quick."

Everard leaned forward against his branch, resting his chin on his forearm. "Merry, I really don't see where mentioning him ever gets us, other than into disagreements. And heaven knows, disagreements aren't good for..."

"No," Merry agreed softly. But that's what I want to...wanted to...talk about, too. Oh, he couldn't say the words. Not yet. What if he was just being foolish? What if all of this was just a temporary--well, uncertainty. Merry more than liked Everard, he knew that much. Otherwise, he wouldn't... Merry caught the onset of a blush. Sometimes, he supposed he might love him. Then again, sometimes--

"Promise me he won't get in the way of everything?" Everard asked earnestly.

Merry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Will I have you to myself at all? Last week at the Smials, we hardly--"

"You had me the whole trip here, and for the last few days besides," Merry pointed out, tucking the leaf right back where it had been.

Everard sighed, "Well, I mean...all right. At the dance, mostly."

"Pip's not much for dancing. Vinca will keep him."

"I hope so," Everard said, glancing down to make Esmerelda wasn't looking before he leaned to kiss Merry's cheek. "I'm still sorry about--"

"Oh, be quiet. You apologize too much, sometimes." Merry pressed a quick kiss to Everard's chin.

"I suppose I do."

Merry nodded and leaned against his own branch, drinking in the breeze as he thought, And not enough when it matters.

* * *

Pervinca tapped on the bedroom door impatiently. "Pippin, are you packing?"

"No." The boy's response was muffled.

"What are you doing, then? Mum says she told you to pack."

"I can't find something!" Pippin shouted in exasperation. "Go away!"

Pervinca tapped the door again, in rhythm with her words. "I--could--help--you."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You don't know what it looks like."

"I don't even know what it is," Pervinca said. "It would help if you told me."

"Liar."

Pervinca blinked. "What?"

"Liar." Pippin sounded wretched.

"Pip, how can I be--"

"You've seen it."

"Then, let me help--"

"No! Go away!"

Pervinca shrugged and turned away. "I will. I have my own packing to do."

* * *

"You do that," Pippin muttered, shoving his half-packed bag off the bed.

He wasn't leaving there without it. He wasn't. He had wanted to show Merry what he'd done, that evening all those weeks and weeks ago, but he had fallen asleep. He hated that. When he woke up, he wasn't by the pond with Vinca anymore, and the music was almost over. He was stuck tucked up in stuffy Estella's arms, and he could remembered seeing Merry and Vinca sitting not too far away, heads bent, talking under the quiet sounds drifting up from the stage. That made him angry. Merry was ignoring him. He had squirmed out of Estella's arms and taken off again, and by the time he reached the pond and haphazardly shoved a bit of broken willow in his pocket, she'd caught up and grabbed him and hauled him back. Pippin hoped that he'd said nasty enough things. Merry would have been proud, but he didn't particularly care. Merry was ignoring him, after all.

Pippin picked his bag back up and set it to rights, shoving the things that he had pulled from his drawers carelessly back into it. Well, no. Merry wasn't ignoring him all the time. Merry had wanted to pay attention last week while he was up that tree watching him do with Everard what he'd seen Freddy and Folco doing in a tent, but Everard had yelled at him and made him come down. Pippin didn't like Everard, no, not at all. Everard wasn't nice to him. Everard was nice to Merry, though, it seemed--maybe too nice. Merry got mad at him sometimes. That must mean...

Pippin dropped to his knees and swept his hand under the edge of his bed one more time. If it had somehow fallen out from under his mattress, then it couldn't have gone anywhere. Not unless his Mum had found it and thrown it out--

Something rustled against Pippin's fingers. He jumped back and then made another quick grab. It felt all dry and rattly, now, but there it was, in his hand.

The piece of hair he'd tied into it was still there. And if Merry would tie some there, too, then maybe, just maybe, Pippin's spell would work and Everard wouldn't be mean or nice to Merry anymore. And maybe, just maybe, Merry would stop ignoring him. Would stop...

Pippin stuffed the willow sprig in his pocket and crawled up onto the bed. He burrowed in his pillows and shivered.

Would stop growing up.

* * *

"You said all four of us would be going?" Fredegar Bolger asked, swilling his ale uncertainly. He glanced sidelong at Folco Boffin, who was listening to Frodo most attentively.

"Yes, I did," Frodo replied, grinning. "I wasn't about to give you the chance to refuse."

"Didn't give me none, neither," Sam said with a firm nod and took a swig of his ale. Freddy and Folco laughed while Frodo lowered his eyes and dealt out some sort of retaliation under the table. Sam jumped and spluttered. "Well, begging your pardon, s'true!"

"You wouldn't have," Frodo said softly, an affectionate smile playing at his lips. Sam was smiling right back, and Freddy fancied he could imagine their fingers linked on the bench between them.

"That settles it," Folco said. "We're all four of us going, and neither Gamgee, nor Bolger may refuse." He chuckled and raised his mug high.

"Hear!" Frodo said, raising his own. Sam was quick to raise his mug, too.

Freddy hesitated and asked, "Will Bilbo be along?"

"No, no," Frodo reassured him. "He's expecting company next week or thereabouts. He wouldn't dream of leaving Bag End, not when--"

"Gandalf," Sam muttered to no one in particular. Frodo touched his shoulder briefly, soothingly.

"Well, no fire-cracking wizard shall say us nay, either," Folco continued cheerfully. "Freddy, what say you?"

Freddy raised his glass with a sigh and cracked them all a smile. "I'm in."

They drank a hearty toast, and it wasn't till afterward when Frodo and Sam were caught in their own talk again that Folco leaned and whispered with a grin, "You had better be."

Freddy glanced at Folco sidelong, swilled his ale around with a half smile. "Only for you. Those Bucklanders make me nervous. Suppose the dancing's got some wild custom involved, or..." Freddy set his ale down and spread his hands, at a loss for words.

"Well, if it involves shedding a bit of cloth for each step you miss, I'll have a fair sight on my hands by midnight. Oh, Fred, lighten up!"

Which was a difficult thing not to do when his Folco had slid an arm around him, and it was all right, oh, more than all right, because Frodo caught it out of the corner of his eye and smiled at his Sam all the wider.

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