“I won’t.” Pippin’s face was set in mulish lines that only a Took could achieve. “Not even for Lady Goldberry.”
"Peregrin Took,” said Frodo sternly, “if you want your supper, you’ll put on those slippers.”
“But we’re hobbits,” protested Sam. “It ain’t natural, putting clothes on our feet. I don’t know what my Gaffer would say.”
“He’d say ‘When in Buckland, do as the Bucklanders do’.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but we ain’t in Buckland.”
“Yes, Mr. Frodo.” He obeyed with an unhappy look. Pippin reluctantly followed suit.
“I wonder why Tom called them ‘slippers’,” mused Merry, standing and taking a cautious step.
“Because you slip them on your feet?” Frodo speculated.
They shuffled awkwardly toward the door, confounded by the strangeness of being unable to feel the floor beneath their feet. Pippin suddenly lost his balance and lurched forward; in a flurry of flailing limbs, the four hobbits tumbled to the ground amid the rushes.
There was a stunned silence, broken by Sam.
“Well, I reckon we know why he called them ‘slippers’,” he said.
The high clear sound of hobbit laughter rang out, and the last of the day’s shadows passed from their hearts.