Title:“Chicken one day, feathers the next”
Elements:brown, oval, twenty
Author's Notes: Never really written hobbits before...so I hope you enjoy. Pippin is 9 in hobbit years - so about 5/6yrs.
Summary: Pippin brings home a surprise whilst staying at Bag End.
Frodo sighed in contentment and stretched out his legs. Finally he’d been able to snatch a few minutes alone with a book. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy spending time with his little cousin when he came to stay; but when you’re only nine even the hottest midday sun does noting to quell your energy, especially if you are so full of life as young Peregrin Took.
They had barely finished lunch when Pippin announced that he would like to go for (another) walk. Frodo had sighed, but was about to say yes, when Samwise, the gardener’s youngest lad, stuck his head around the door and offered to go walking with Pippin. “Seeing as there’s naught to be done with plants in this heat, Mister Frodo.”
Frodo had (of course) agreed immediately and as soon as Pippin and Sam had closed the gate to Bag End, he took his book out onto the shaded bench in the garden, from where he could read peacefully, but also watch for his little cousin’s return.
After his walk Pippin seemed quite contented to play with some toys in his room. The room that had been Frodo’s and then their other cousin Merry’s before they’d outgrown it.
Frodo didn’t hear a word from Pippin until afternoon tea, when, through a mouthful of seedcake, Pippin asked “ ‘bout how long does it take for a chicky to hatch, Frodo?”
“I think it’s about twenty days or so, Pip.”
“Oh” Pippin sighed, “That’s an awfully long time, longer than I’m here.”
Bilbo smiled at the two of them, silently wondering where Pippin’s sudden question had come from.
Pippin bolted the rest of his cake, and then hurried back to his room. Frodo frowned, and then followed the young hobbit. As he neared Pippin’s room he heard his cousin whispering.
“O, come on, hurry, please! I haven’t got twenty days! Please hurry!”
Suddenly Frodo understood and he stepped into the doorway. There in the middle of Pippin’s bed was a pile of blankets and clothes, and right in the middle was an egg, carefully nestled amongst the cloth. Pippin was lying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, watching the egg intently.
“What are you doing with the egg, Pip?” Frodo asked, although he was quite sure he already knew the answer.
“Waiting for the egg to hatch. Sam said that talking to it might make it hatch quicker; like him and his Da do with flowers ‘n plants.”
Frodo smiled “where did you get the egg, pip? Did Sam give it too you?”
“We found it on our walk. The brown hen at the Green Dragon laid them this morning, and they said I could have one!”
“That was kind of them. But, Pip, most eggs don’t hatch. That’s why we eat them. I think your little egg might be one of those.”
“Oh” said Pippin “You mean I won’t get a chicky?”
“I’m afraid not, Pip. It’s the wrong time of year. But if you come at springtime, I’m sure we’ll be able to find you a chick.” Frodo smiled “Now, don’t look so glum! Let’s go into the kitchen and see if we can fix you up a nice omelette with your egg.”
“With Mushrooms!” Pippin’s eyes lit up.
“Of course with Mushrooms, silly!”