Snowfall
and a War of Sorts
A/N: This is
my entry for the “Winter Wonderland” fanfiction competition at Open Scrolls
Archive. I did go a little over the word limit, but I couldn’t help it!
(Funnily enough, I can never seem to make the word limit when I’m writing
an essay!).
* *
* * * *
Frodo Baggins
was awoken by a distinctively childish squeal of: “It’s snowing! Snow has
fallen!”
This confused
him for a moment, for there were no children living at Bag End. He was the
youngest Hobbit living there, but at twenty-seven, he could hardly be called a
child (but, on that same note, it would be another five years before he could
be called an adult). However, when the voice spoke again, this time closer –
“Merry, Merry! Come see! Come see the snow!” – he understood fully.
Bilbo Baggins
had invited his two young cousins, Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck to
spend Yule with he and Frodo at Bag End. Much to the young Hobbits’ delight,
they had been allowed. Gandalf the Wizard had also come to stay, which excited
them even more.
It was largely
a favour, on Bilbo’s part, to Merry and Pippin’s families. Merry’s family
usually spent Yule with Pippin’s at the Great Smials, since Merry’s mother was
the younger and beloved sister of Pippin’s father. Bilbo knew that either one
of the young Hobbits was a nuisance on their own, but when teamed together,
they were a catastrophe just waiting to happen.
Pippin’s elder
sisters were more than often the victims of Merry and Pippin’s mischief and
pranks (though the youngest, Pervinca, was the most Tookish of the three, and
often joined with her brother and cousin). Bilbo had thought it would be a
pleasant gesture to allow both families to have a peaceful Yule. However, it
was a decision he was beginning to regret.
Young Pippin’s
gleeful squeals had also woken him – from a rather pleasant sleep at that.
Climbing out of bed, he grumbled to himself: “Just the sort of morning I would
have liked to sleep in too.”
But despite
his annoyance, Bilbo could not deny that he adored both the lads. That had been
his other reason for inviting them to stay. They were both Tooks at heart and
loved hearing about Bilbo’s adventures. In fact, whenever either of them asked,
“Uncle Bilbo, tell us about the Dragon,” – Pippin in his adorable squeak, or
Merry in his slowly maturing voice – Bilbo was more than happy to oblige.
Bilbo put on
some slippers and pulled on a gown. Just as he was searching for his pipe, two
faces appeared at his doorway.
“It’s snowing,
Uncle Bilbo!” Pippin cried.
“So I heard,”
Bilbo replied in a stern, but not grumpy tone. From the way the two lads were
behaving, one would have thought they had never seen snow before. A ridiculous
assumption, since it snowed at least a little every Winter in the Shire.
“Can we go out
and play?” Merry pleaded.
“We’ll see
Merry-lad. But first, I need a bit of breakfast.”
Merry and
Pippin quickly forgot the excitement of the snow as their hungry stomachs
growled. Taking one in each hand, Bilbo lead his young cousins to the kitchen,
where Frodo was already preparing tea for the looming form of Gandalf.
“Good
morning,” Frodo greeted. “Would you like some tea, Bilbo?”
“Yes, thank
you, Frodo my boy,” answered Bilbo. “And I’d say Merry and Peregrin would too.”
“Lovely day, isn’t
it?” said Gandalf. “Why Peregrin, do you remember you wished it would snow just
yesterday?”
Pippin nodded
eagerly.
“So this is
your doing?” Bilbo snorted, sipping his tea.
Gandalf
smiled, and his eyes twinkled beneath his bushy eyebrows. “I cannot control the
weather, dear Bilbo. I merely foretell.”
Breakfast was
soon over and the thought of fun in the snow had quickly returned to Pippin and
Merry’s (and to a small extent, Frodo’s) minds. They begged again to be allowed
outside to play.
“Now, now,”
said Bilbo. “You can’t go outside like that, Peregrin. Your mother would have
my head on a platter if you were to catch a chill. Yours too, Meriadoc. Come
now, we’ll get you dressed first.”
Pippin whined
bitterly, but followed Bilbo to his room. As a very young lad, he was not yet
fully accomplished at dressing himself and required some assistance. Merry was
able to dress himself and was ready far sooner than his young cousin.
“Hurry up,
Peregrin!” he called. “Or we shan’t wait for you!”
“Merry!” Pippin’s
childish whine returned.
Frodo chuckled
and opened the round front door. Outside, Samwise Gamgee was sweeping away the
snow that had gathered in front of the door.
“Good morning,
Sam,” Frodo said in surprise, for he had not expected to see Sam.
“Hullo, Mr.
Frodo,” Sam replied.
“There wasn’t
any need for you to sweep the doorstep, but I am sure Bilbo will be pleased to
hear that you have.”
“Oh, I hope
so, Mr. Frodo. There’s not much a gardener can do in weather like this, but I
do what I can.” He glanced around and lowered his voice, as one who is about to
reveal a great secret. “Besides, this cold ain’t doing no good for my Gaffer’s
joints, if you understand me rightly. A horrible fuss he was making this
morning. I left Marigold to deal with his moaning.”
Frodo laughed.
“Well, I’ll be sure not to tell Bilbo of this other reason…”
Frodo was cut
off and nearly knocked over as Peregrin Took ran out of the Hobbit-hole. Merry
was not far behind.
“Hullo Sam!”
he greeted, as he ran past.
“Full of
energy, those two,” Sam whistled. “Do they ever tire out?”
“Not very
often,” Frodo answered truthfully. “You should’ve seen Merry when he was Pip’s
age.”
The two
cousins had already begun playing in the snow. Pippin started to build a figure
– a “Snow Wizard” he declared it would be. Merry seemed content to just run
around, occasionally picking up handfuls of the white powder and letting it
fall back to the earth.
That was how
Frodo came upon his idea. With a mischievous grin – which Sam decided, could only
have come from hid Tookish heritage – Frodo gathered up a handful of snow,
formed it into a ball and let it fly. Half a moment later, Merry Brandybuck let
out a cry as his face was splattered by white powder.
He looked at
Frodo and Sam, both of whom were doubled over in laughter. A grin spread across
his lips, so like Frodo’s that anyone who did not know otherwise, would have
sworn they were brothers. He formed his own snow projectile and tossed it at
the laughing pair. It made its target, hitting Sam in the ear.
And so a snow
war started, with Sam and Frodo throwing snowballs at Merry, and he tossing
them back. Pippin was completely oblivious to the whole thing; until a stray
snowball, from Frodo’s hand, hit him square in the face.
He froze, mouth
open. Frodo cringed; he hadn’t meant to hit Pippin, especially not in the face.
Now the young Took would start screaming, and he would have to explain to Bilbo
what had happened.
“Pip, I’m so
sorry! I didn’t mean…” Frodo’s apology was cut short as snow filled his mouth.
It seemed Pippin had had a handful of snow destined for his wizard and had
hurled it straight at Frodo.
“Nice work,
Pippin!” Merry cheered. “You can be on my team.”
The snow war
continued, with Merry now teamed with Pippin, who had exceptionally good aim
for a lad of only six. Merry and Pippin had an advantage – Pippin’s partially
completed snow wizard made a fantastic shelter. They hid behind it and only
peeped out from the sides. They did, however, receive several brilliantly aimed
hits to the face.
Inside, Bilbo
had been cleaning off the wax from his candleholders, while talking quietly to
Gandalf. They could both hear the squeals of laughter from outside and decided
to investigate.
“Honestly,
those lads are a handful,” Bilbo sighed. “Frodo’s usually so well behaved, but
the minute Merry and Peregrin show up…”
“Let them
enjoy themselves while they can,” Gandalf chuckled. The wizard ducked to fit
through the doorway, but while he was straightening up, a snowball hit his on
the side of his face. Snowflakes mingled in his grey beard.
Silence once
again took over the Hobbits. Bilbo had to stifle a laugh beneath his hand.
Gandalf looked up to see a mortified Peregrin quickly dart behind his cousin.
“Merry!”
Pippin squeaked. “Gandalf’s going to turn me into a frog. Or a goose, with
bright red feathers!”
“He won’t
while you’re hidden behind me,” Merry snorted with a scowl. “It’ll hit me
first! And besides, geese don’t have red feathers.”
But Gandalf
did not fume with anger as the young Hobbits expected him too. His eyes gleamed
in a way that only Bilbo understood. “My, Peregrin, you Tooks do have fantastic
aim.” He paused for a moment to wipe away a little of the snow. “But I’ll warn
you…” And as he said it, Pippin cowered, but Gandalf just smiled, “…Wizards
have far better.”
Pippin and
Merry were immediately bombarded with several snowballs, all from Gandalf’s
direction. At that same moment, Bilbo dumped a handful of snow on top of
Frodo’s head. Gandalf chuckled as poor Frodo shook his head violently to remove
as much of the snow from his curls as he could.
“You’ll pay
for that, Bilbo!” Frodo cried, mounting a quick vengeance attack against his
older cousin.
“I doubt it,
Frodo, my lad!” Bilbo returned, with a joyful laugh. “You couldn’t hit the side
of Bag End!”
Now with three
teams participating, the war carried on. In fact, it lasted most of the morning
and continued on well into the afternoon, though of course, there was a reasonable
break for lunch. As the sun began to drift behind the trees, for it set far
earlier during the Winter, Bilbo called for a cease-fire. Pippin threw one more
snowball after this, hitting Gandalf again. Bilbo frowned at the lad, but
laughed at the same time.
Bilbo invited
Sam to Bag End for dinner, but Sam politely declined. He thought that he should
probably return home to see how his Gaffer was doing. As Sam wandered away to
Number Three, Bagshot Row, he let off a string of rather violent sneezes. It
was not until now that Bilbo noticed he felt a little sniffily himself. A quick
glance at the three Hobbit lads still remaining confirmed his fear. Pippin was
shivering and his eyes looked a little red. Merry wiped his nose with his
sleave, and Frodo let off his own round of sneezes. They had been having far
too much fun and had stayed out in the cold for too long. Only Gandalf seemed
unaffected, but that was hardly surprising. Bilbo wondered if the wizard ever
became sick.
“Right lads,
inside we go,” he sighed. “We’ve been out here for too long.” And even as he
spoke, he felt sneezes coming on.
Gandalf took
one of Merry’s hands and Frodo, the other. Bilbo picked up Pippin in his arms
as the lad came near. Once inside the cosy hole, he asked Frodo to start a fire
while he took Pippin to have a bath.
As they warmed
themselves in front of the flames, Merry and Frodo heard a rather loud splash.
Obviously Pippin had felt Bilbo also needed a wash. They grinned at each other.
Both Bilbo and Pippin emerged from the bathroom a little while later. Bilbo had
changed his clothes, but his hair was still somewhat wet, confirming the lads’
suspicion.
“Here, drink
this,” Gandalf commanded, handing each of the Hobbits a mug of tea. While Merry
and Frodo had prepared the fire, he had busied himself in the kitchen preparing
the tea. It had a pleasant aroma to it; spicy, a scent like cinnamon. Bilbo
took a swig. He supposed Gandalf had added something to help with their
oncoming sickness. Gandalf had also been kind enough to put together a small
dinner for each of them. They ate in front of the fire, Pippin seated on
Bilbo’s lap.
“Tell us a
story, Uncle Bilbo,” Pippin asked, though his voice sounded weary and he yawned
as he spoke.
“Well,
Peregrin…” Bilbo did not know how to tell the child that he was hardly feeling
up to storytelling, but Gandalf rescued him.
“Why don’t we
give Bilbo a rest for tonight?” the old wizard said softly. “I’ll tell you the
story about how I saved your bumbling uncle and a group of dwarves from three
hungry trolls.”
Pippin’s eyes
grew wide and he smiled. Gandalf was going to tell them a story! Merry shuffled
closer to the wizard, though not too far from the warmth of the fire. Frodo
just smiled to himself. He thought it would be interesting to hear how Gandalf
told the story Bilbo had told so much.
Despite how
tired they obviously were, Merry and Pippin stayed awake for the whole story,
listening intently to ever word the wizard spoke. When Gandalf finally finished
with, “…but that story will have to wait for another night”, Merry smiled
wearily and said, “That was a great story Gandalf.”
“And all I
shall tell you for tonight,” Gandalf replied. “Off to bed with you, Master
Meriadoc. Sleep this chill off. You too, Frodo.”
Both lads
nodded and said their goodnights. They discovered that Pippin had fallen to
sleep in Bilbo’s arms the minute the story had ended. Merry offered to take
Pippin to his bed, but Bilbo declined. He would take the lad himself.
“And then you
should get some sleep too,” Gandalf suggested. “It’s not only Hobbit-lads that
can catch a chill.”
“Yes,
Gandalf,” Bilbo chuckled, imitating the voice that Frodo would use when he told
the lad to do something. Bilbo carried young Pippin to his bedroom and tucked
the small child in.
As he was
about to leave, he heard a small voice. “Uncle Bilbo?”
Bilbo turned
back saw Pippin looking at him with half-closed eyes and a small smile. “Yes,
Peregrin?”
“Mama’s going
to have your head on a platter.”
And Bilbo chuckled.
“That she is, my lad, that she is.” He closed the door and let Pippin drift
into a peaceful sleep.
The End