Pippin sighed. It was hard to have so much self-control, especially when it came to food.

His father had always said that having to do without could build character and, that he should try to put himself in the position of the many tenants and other hobbits who would be his responsibility as he grew older. Not being able to have everything he wanted was something he would have to get use to.

He had got through first breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, lunch, afternoon tea, but it was getting more difficult by the second.

He couldn't stop thinking about the way their skin glistened when they were polished. Or the satisfying crunch when he bit into them, the way the juice squirted into his mouth and down his chin when the fruit was just ripe enough. …The slightly tart, sometimes floury, taste and the crisp texture of each bite. …The smell as they slowly ripened in the larder. …The excitement of climbing a tree to get one from the very top.

He just couldn't take it any longer...

He had to have one ...

Next time he would make sure he gave up the red apples and not the green ones.