"Where is that a-cursed son of yours?" Paladin Took mumbled, sticking his head out the door and looking around. "How long could it possibly take to get a few mushrooms?"

It was nearly eleven o’ clock in the morning. Second breakfast was long past over, and luncheon was looming not far ahead. Hobbits don’t mind of being deprived of one meal, but missing two meals (in a row, mind you) is just too much to bear.

"Don’t you call him my son," said Eglantine, Pippins mother. "It was your idea to have another child. You couldn’t be happy with three girls. No, you wanted another girl. And look! We’ve got a troublesome boy instead. Why can’t he just act normal?"

Paladin scowled, grabbing his cloak off the wall. His stomach rumbled noisily, and his scowl etched farther into his face.

"Where are you going?" asked Eglantine, crossing her arms across her chest and planted a stern look upon her face.

"I’m going to find him, you bickering beast," Muttered Paladin, pinning his cloak shut. "If he should come back while I’m gone, give him a good whacking. He deserves it."

"Oh, I’ll give him more than that."

~~

Bilbo Baggins sat at his desk, running the end of his feather-quill along his nose. He was quite bored, to put it simply. Days and days of filling out invitations will wear anyone out, especially if that ‘anyone’ happens to be far past his prime and still going.

Bilbo thoughtfully tapped the pointed edge of his quill on the paper. His stomach was tied in knots – Pre-party anxiety and the fact that he was hungry. Frodo had gone to collect a few tomatoes from the Gaffer – He shouldn’t have taken this long, the Gaffer only lived a short walk away.

A ‘thump’ coming from outside alerted his attention. His right hand shot out instinctively, accidentally knocking over the ink bottle in the process. It spilled into his lap, and he cursed, trying to scoop the ink up with his quill before it soaked into his clothes.

"Uncle Bilbo," Frodo called from the front hallway. "I’m home, and I’ve brought something with me."

Bilbo sprang up, giving his trousers an extra wipe. "Breakfast, I do hope?"

Frodo laughed, and Bilbo heard another ‘thump’, as if Frodo had dumped a particularly heavy load from his back onto the floor.

"Well, more of a someone, Uncle." Said Frodo. Bilbo quickly hopped down the hall, wondering what new visitor it was today. One of the Gaffers daughters (whom Frodo seemed to have taken a liking too), Rosie Cotton, and Meriadoc Brandybuck had only been a few of their guests in the past few days. But who he found standing in front of the doorway, nursing his bandaged hand, was much more to his liking.

"Bless your little heart!" Bilbo laughed, pulling the tiny Peregrin Took to him and hugging him. "What brings you here this early?"

"A, a…" Pippin stuttered, scratching his head uncomfortably. He paused, taking a deep breath. "I snuck into Farmer Maggot’s crops and met Frodo and we ran away and Frodo tripped and I fell and the dog bit me and I fainted. Ow." Said Pippin very quickly, unwrapping his scarf from his hand and showing the bite mark to Bilbo.

Bilbo paused, going over the words and sorting them out to make a little sense of the sentence. "Oh. I see," he said after a moment. "We’ll have to fix you up, then. Frodo m’lad, could you go get Samwise? He knows a bit about medicine."

Frodo nodded, exiting the way he came and quickly shutting the door behind him. Bilbo looked at the door for a moment, then turned back to Pippin; Pippin was staring at him stupidly, holding his scarf.

"Well, Mr. Took, it’s almost time for Luncheon. Come, we’ll make a meal of what we have." Said Bilbo, going to the kitchen. Pippin followed, dropping his scarf and cloak onto a chair as he passed it. Bilbo came to the kitchen, leading Pippin to the bench-table and sitting him down.

"Do your parents know you’re here?" Bilbo asked suddenly, setting a teapot down on the table.

"Er…" said Pippin slowly, down-casting his eyes. "Well..I was..And then…But..and…er..no."

Bilbo let out a sigh, pulling the mitts off his hands and leaving the room. He came back a minute later, holding his quill and a piece of paper.

"Write a note and tell them where you are." He said, handing Pippin the things he held.

"But they’ll be mad at me.." Bilbo heard Pippin murmur, taking the pen and writing ‘Hullo,’ at the top of the parchment.

"Oh, don’t worry," said Bilbo, pulling his fire gloves back on and reaching in to prod the burning wood under the pot hanging there. "The worst that could happen is you will miss a few meals. I’m sure they won’t be too hard on you."

‘You may need to rethink your idea, Mr. Bilbo.’ Thought Pippin, handing the dear old hobbit the finished note he had written. Bilbo scrawled his name at the bottom, folded it up, and stuck it in an envelope.

"You watch this fire, Mr. Took, and put the pot on the table after a few minutes." He said.

"Where are you going?"

"To wash this cunfounded ink out of my pants."

Pippin nodded, and a little ‘Oh’ escaped his lips.

~~

"Now, you take this to Paladin Took, and hurry as fast as your little legs will carry you." Bilbo said to the hobbit-child, who looked up at him in awe and wonder. He handed the child a few coins as well. The ‘messenger’ nodded, and scampered off down the road.

‘Now, to wash off this ink.’ Thought Bilbo. But his train of thought was brought to a full and complete stop as a screech came from the kitchen. He ran back to the kitchen, mentally smacking himself. That Took was obviously much too young to be left watched a fire. What had he done now?

Bilbo arrived at the kitchen to find Pippin standing on a chair, his eyes wide in fear. The pot lay on the floor, its contents spilled all over the place. The skin on the tops of Pippin’s feet and his hands were red, and he prodded them, wincing in surprise.

"Pippin," Bilbo sighed, lifting him off the chair and setting him down away from the water. "Go to the water fountain down the road and get some cool water. Wash yourself off."

Pippin nodded meekly, scurrying to the door, running out and down the road.

"Fool of a Took," Bilbo said under his breath, pulling a rag from the counter and kneeling to wipe the soup up. "How much more trouble could he get himself into?"

~~

Pippin let out a sigh of relief as the cold water spilled onto his hands. He sat at the edge of the pool, letting his feet dangle. The boiling water of the soup had scalded the tops of his feet, and his palms – How stupid he was, reaching down to touch the water, though he already had proof it was REALLY hot.

He leaned forward, positioning his mouth under the spout of water. He waited until his mouth was full, then pulled back. He spit the water out in a fountain of his own, straight into the air.

"Peregrin Took!" said an angry voice behind him.

Pippin jumped in surprise, spitting out the water in his mouth. It fell back onto his face, and he ducked, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

"What have you been doing?!" the voice demanded. The person behind him grabbed him by the back of his collar, twisting him around and pulling him up. It was his father, Paladin. And he didn’t look happy (or well-fed).

"I was just.." Pippin began, but was cut off by a slap to the face.

"Your mother and I have been waiting for you! What took you so long? Off playing tricks on people, were you?"

Pippin winced as the hand connected with his cheek. He tried to pull back, but his father shaked him by the shoulders.

"No, father..I, I was just -"

"Misbehaving!" Paladin interuppted. "You never learn, Peregrin Took! Why must you always be such a pain?"

"I wasn’t misbehaving!" cried Pippin, whimpering as Paladin’s hand crept to his neck and shook him. "One of Farmer Maggots dogs –"

At the words ‘Farmer Maggot’, Paladin looked furious. He gave Pippin another smack, and Pippin whimpered. His father got mad at him a lot, over little things, but never quite this angry.

"You’ve been into Farmer Maggot’s crops again, haven’t you?" His father demanded. Pippin shook his head vehemently, but no use. A fiery rage seemed to flash in his father’s eyes, and he pushed Pippin backwards. Pippin stumbled over his own feet, until he was stopped by the edge of the fountain. Paladin kept on pushing him backwards, and Pippin’s head slowly bent back. Water streamed through his hair, then straight onto his face. He gurgled, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to pull away.

Pippin faintly heard his father yelling at him – there was too much water in his ears to tell what exactly. He tried taking a breath, but stopped as the water threatened to go into his lungs. He heard someone else start to yell, and Pippin was shaken as someone wrenched his father away from him. With a startled yell, he fell back into the fountain, swallowing a bit of water in the process.

A callused hand reached into the water, groping around until he found a hold. The person dragged Pippin up (painfully) by his hair, and pulled him onto the ground. It was Samwise Gamgee, ‘heir’ to the Gaffer and friend of many. He patted Pippin on the back, and Pippin coughed up some water.

Frodo grabbed onto Paladin’s shoulders, pushing him a few feet away from Pippin. Paladin staggered, but regained his balance and scowled at Frodo.

"Paladin Took, you’d better stay away from Pippin. If I ever see you doing that to him again, or hurting him in any way, I’ll…" Frodo trailed off, glaring daggars and pointy things at the Thain.

"Frodo," Pippin said after a moment. "Frodo, he’s my father, he can do –"

"Nay, Pippin, he can’t do whatever he wants." Samwise interuppted.

"And Mr. Took," Frodo began again. "If that ever should happen again, I’m going to talk to the Mayor, and Pippin will come and live at Bag End."

Pippin blinked once or twice, his eyes wide. No one had ever threatened his father before, not like that. It would pain Pippin to be taken away from his family, but to live at Bag End..Away from his father, and his annoying sisters…and his mother, who always yelled at him.

"Come on, Master Pippin." Said Sam, standing him on his feet and holding his hand. "Frodo’ll talk to your father. Cool off a bit. Come, now, we’re going back to Bag End and fixing your hand."

Sam led Pippin back down the road, Pippin occasionally looking back to his father and friend fighting. Frodo seemed to have the upper hand of the verbal fight – he was the one doing all the ‘verbal-izing’.

"And anyone can," Pippin heard Frodo yell before the rounded a corner. "Bilbo can, and Sam can, and Merry can, and anyone can! But if I hear YOU calling him a ‘Fool of a Took’, ever, you won’t see the end of me!"