“Will you stay with me, with you be my love
Upon the fields of barley?”

The sun is high in the sky – it is the best summer the Shire has seen in years. I try not to judge it, I have seen better summers, and worse, but at my age I am just happy to see another summer, the quality of it never really matters.

But since this is a fine summer, I did decide to go for a walk. So, here I am, looking out over fields full of flowers, and crops, and oats… fields of green, and white, red, and yellow… and gold. A gentle breeze is blowing through them all, forming ripples in the grass.

This brings back memories, a particular memory from long ago, a treasured memory.

--

It was sometime in August, year 1410 in the Shire. What month or year it was as customs go outside the Shire, I did not know, and it was not a great matter to me either.

Me and Pippin had gone for a picnic. This had long been something we would often do on fine summer days, a habit first introduced by my dear mother. I guess it was a way to keep us out of the way, and a good try at keeping us out of mischief. The latter, of course, never fully worked.

Pippin was just into his tweens now, and I was coming out of mine. We had a basket full of things mother had considerately packed (enough to keep us out of farmer Maggot’s crops, she most probably hoped), which I was carrying for most of the time whilst Pip went ahead searching for a nice place to spread the blanket.

Searching took time. It always took time with Pip. I went on a picnic or two with Frodo, at the time he still lived in Brandy Hall, and they were never as carefully planned as they were with Pippin. Nor as fun.

You see, much as Pippin loved food, and would surely have liked to throw the blanket in any good spot, the place where we ate seemed to matter a lot. And there were always the distractions whilst searching, an unusual bug, a colourful butterfly, a strange flower, a mouse taking cover as we scrambled through the fields. He would be at my side in a flash, tugging at my arm and pointing, and I would nod and smile and sometimes tell him it was lovely. Then he would bounce back and continue his search.

He would finally find a spot. He would stand considering it, and if it seemed good to him, he would turn to me. And I would tell him it was a perfect spot, and he would take the basket from me and spread out the blanket, always happy at my approval. Then he would put out the food, and I would sit and watch him because he always insisted he knew what way everything should go, but still when he was finished he would turn to me for approval yet again, and I would give it to him. Then we could eat.

But I am getting carried away now. This was about a memory, not our picnic habits.

Where was I? Oh, yes, of course. On this particular day Pippin found a perfect spot just beside a barley field, a little spot of grass which was partially shaded by a great oak. There were a lot of buttercups and poppies and other flowers growing in this spot, mildly ruffled by a gentle, warm breeze. The air was filled with the scents of summer.

When we had eaten so much we couldn’t get anything else down, we packed away the left-overs. Now feeling sleepy, I stretched out in the grass. Pippin lay beside me, and we looked at each other, but we were both silent (unusual for Pip!).

I remember exactly how he looked right there. To the backdrop of a clear blue cloudless sky, and flowers and a golden field, he looked beautiful. No, more than just beautiful – he was always beautiful, but that day he looked… almost like perfection. His green eyes were sparkling, greener than ever. His cheeks were flushed a healthy soft pink from the fresh air. His freckles were numerous, accented from a long summer with much sun. And his lips… they were red, and full and… they captivated me.

“Merry?” His voice was a mere whisper, and I read the word on his lips rather than heard it.

I never knew exactly what happened next. Suddenly, my arms were full of Pippin, and then his lips were on mine.

It was a sweet kiss – gentle and tentative, yet craving and bold. When it was over Pippin’s eyes burned on mine, and he blushed, and I felt I held his fate in the palm of my hand right then. One word from me and he could crumble into a thousand pieces, or soar high into the sky. So I didn’t dare say anything. I kissed him instead.

We didn’t stop kissing for a long while, and were gasping for breath when we could finally let go. He was on top of me now, and his hands were exploring, one had slipped in under my shirt and was gentle against my stomach. Mine found their way under his shirt, and onto his back, and his skin was velvety soft. He shivered under my touch, and his hands stilled, and he buried his face in my neck.

“Oh, Merry!” It was but a mumble against me, but I could hear it – and feel it. He bucked against me, and I realised how excited I had got him, and then I slowly realised this was not the place for such games.

“Pippin? Pip? We shouldn’t do this-“ I was cut short as Pippin nibbled at my neck, then my ear, his hands tangling in my hair. “-here…” It got drowned in a sigh, and my mind shut down now, nothing else mattered.

“I have dreamed about this, Merry…” His voice was husky in my ear, and his revelation put everything into place. His endless attempts at pleasing me. The way he sought my attention. And the way he always asked my approval an everything and anything. Of course, it was all plain now!

“Oh, Pip…” I didn’t know what to say, so I just touched his cheek lightly. He momentarily pushed into my touch, then he moved down and started to unbutton my shirt. His hands and mouth were everywhere as it came open. I bit my lip hard not to cry out, so hard I tasted blood, and I lost all control of my body, writhing helplessly beneath him.

It’s all hazy after that. All I know is that when I finally got my senses back, we were naked, and cuddled together, and our picnic blanket was spread over us. And Pippin was smiling at me, and his eyes were sparkling and the sun reflected in them. The sun was green… and behind him the golden barley swayed in the wind.

He touched my lip gently. “You hurt yourself.” His voice quivered slightly, and he held up a napkin that had a few spots of red on it.

I took his hand and looked at him and managed to smile. “Because you made me feel so good half the Shire would have known had I let it out.”

“Really?” He looked bashful, and hopeful.

“Yes, of course. I love you.” The words escaped me before I could think about them, but I realised the truth in them just then. I had always loved him.

“Oh, Merry.” He whispered. “I love you too…” I have never heard any sweeter words.

---

That was the start of everything, no not of everything, but of something new between us. We had many picnics after that, and other such stolen moments, and we went with Frodo on his quest, and we came back… and everything started to change. However much we wanted, we could not live together at Crickhollow forever, and we had our duties when I became Master of Buckland and he became the Took and Thain.

We both married. Letting him go was one of the few things I regret doing in my life. Stolen moments became fewer and fewer, everything became harder… we saw less and less of each other.

The sun is setting now and I’d best go home. Everyone will worry, of course, I should know to be responsible and not go off walking for hours, but sometimes, in fact more often than not, memories are triggered and I have to live through them again.

There are a few little lads and lasses running across the fields on their way home. I wish I was one of them. I wish I was back there, back with my memories, to the days when everything was perfect, and rules were made to be broken, and, most of all, I had Pippin.

“Many years have passed since those summer days
Among the fields of barley.
See the children run as the sun goes down
Upon the fields of gold."