Pippin couldn’t stop a shriek when the thunder roared, and dropped where he was in the hallway, curling up into a little ball. He knew he was a big lad now, all of six years old, and shouldn’t be scared by a storm, but all he wanted to was to be with his Merry, right now. Still shaking, he felt arms wrap around him, and was lifted into a familiar lap.

“What’s this, little one?” Pippin was too scared to inform him he wasn’t little anymore, as he usually did, but just whimpered and clung to Merry as another thunderclap sounded. Warm hands rubbed his back, and he felt Merry rise, and start to walk back to his room, Pippin still in his arms.

“Shhh, Pippin, all is well. The thunder won’t get to you, and we’ll go to my room where you’ll barely hear it.” Pippin nodded his head against Merry’s shoulder, where he was now burying his head, and wrapped his legs around Merry’s waist. They made it to Merry’s room in the Great Smials, buried deep back in the hobbit-hole, where the storm raging outside was muffled by the thick layer of earth around the room.

“Can you let go of me, sweetheart, and lie down? I’ll build up the fire and we can have a little camp-out.” Pippin calmed at Merry’s voice, and the hand that was still rubbing circles on his back, and let go long enough to crawl under the covers and watch Merry add wood to the small fireplace. Once it was built up enough to bring a fair amount of light to the room, Merry returned to cuddle Pippin to him.

“’m sorry.”

Merry looked at him in surprise. “Whatever for?” he asked, confused by this little cousin.

“’m too old for this. ‘Nel says.” Merry frowned, and pulled him close, smooching brown curls. “Don’t you listen to Pimpernel—thunder’s scary sometimes. I was scared too, when I was your age. And I’d go crawl into bed with Frodo, too, like you do with me.” Merry lifted the youngster’s chin, and Pippin smiled up at him, in perfect trust.

“He’d always protect you, from anything bad?” Pippin looked up, eyes drying.

Merry nodded slowly, and got the look in his eyes Pippin recognized as the one he got right before telling a memory. He smiled, then, and snuggled closer to Merry, eyes drifting shut. “Good, then he was like you.”

“What?” Merry was quite awake now, looking down at the little hobbit-lad that had so recently been frozen with terror.

“You protect me, Merry. Always, no matter how much trouble I’m in. And maybe,” Pippin yawned, and his eyes shut all the way, “maybe when I get older I can protect you, from everything bad and mean.”

And he drifted off to sleep to the sound of muffled thunder, thinking maybe he heard Merry say, “Oh, Pippin, I know you will. And I’ll always protect you, no matter how old you are.” Or it may have been a dream.

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