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The first time Merry saw Pippin, he didn't think much of him. He'd seen squalling babies before, and they weren't very interesting. You couldn't play with them, and they tended to be smelly. But he kicked the edge of the rug where it was rucked up a little by the edge of the cot, and then he said what a beautiful baby Peregrin was (and wasn't that a stupid name for anyone, even a useless baby?) and how happy he was to have another cousin to love (although frankly Merry had too many already, if you asked him, especially if they were going to grow up to be as vicious as Pearl could be sometimes). His Mum beamed at him then, and Merry felt a little glow, and then a little twinge, because he'd really been telling fibs, and he knew he shouldn't tell fibs, even if it was what his aunt and uncle needed to hear. So then he surreptiously kicked the cot because he felt guilty, a sort of sick tickle that shivered down the back of his neck that made him want to break things, and the vibration woke the baby. Merry watched in resentful fascination as the creature's little pink mouth opened into a wail that could likely shatter glass.
Merry didn't think much of the first time he heard Pippin either.
The first time Merry cried in front of Pippin, he didn't really mean to. He'd gone out to the tack shed, to the little room off the main store where all the old bits of leather that needed fixing were kept. He went there because it was dark and close, because it smelt wonderful, and because it was a bit dirty and there were little spiders that spun their webs in the corners. Pearl would never soil her dress by coming in the tack shed, so the other reason Merry went in there was because it was safe.
He stood in the corner with the spiders and he didn't really mean to cry at all. It just seemed that these warm wet drops formed and rolled off the end of his nose without any volition or intention on his part. They didn't even make a sound when they plopped onto the floor. Really, it was as if Merry wasn't crying at all.
The sound of the door banging could have been anything – the wind, an ostler coming to check a saddle – anything really, but Merry couldn't help a sort of choked off gasp. He cringed like a rabbit that has seen the stoat, and turned frightened eyes towards the entrance, his heart thumping away like a drum. But dull anger replaced his fear when he saw Pippin staring at him wide-eyed, leaning on the door-jamb, with his thumb in his mouth.
The tack shed wasn't really safe, anymore than anywhere in the Great Smials was safe. He'd remember that. Merry pushed past Pippin, not caring that he nearly knocked the little lad to the ground. How dare Pippin spy on him! How dare he!
Merry never cried in front of Pippin again. But he did remember the startled shock in Pippin's eyes, and he also remembered the fuss Pearl made later when she discovered her ribbon box was full of porridge. It made Merry smile, even when he got blamed for it. So that was something.
The first time Merry took Pippin fishing, he'd stopped sucking his thumb. Fishing was a quiet sport, and it meant Merry could be away from the Smials for most of the day, and it involved messy things like maggots and fish-guts. Girls didn't like to go fishing, especially since it meant spending all day by the brook, and certain cousins, naming no Pearls, were afraid of the water, so that helped a lot too. Merry took Pippin with him because that made him the responsible one, and it meant he wasn't by himself with no witnesses, but his Auntie Eg and his Uncle Pal smiled at him, and said what a good cousin he was to little Pippin. Merry nodded, and picked up the packed lunch they gave him, and took Pippin by the hand. He knew that he wasn't, not really, but they didn't need to know that.
Pippin chattered, and laughed, and Merry showed him how to tie a cat's whisker fly, and they fell in the brook once when they were getting Pippin's first catch to shore. He got a horrible pang when he realised afterwards that Pippin couldn't swim, even if this stream wasn't as deep as the Brandywine. But Pippin looked really funny covered in river mud, and his eyes shone like little green lamps from under the dirt, and Merry realised his sides hurt from laughing so much. Pippin was too small, he couldn't do anything really fun, and Merry knew that if he was home that Berilac would tease him about playing with such a little lad, but none of that really mattered.
Merry decided that next time they went fishing he'd teach Pippin to swim, so he could stop worrying about him so much. But it made him feel strange when Pippin slipped his hand into Merry's own, on the journey home. It was odd, but Merry decided that he liked it. It was odd, because Merry hadn't really expected to enjoy himself with Pippin. Not at all.
The first time Merry knocked someone down, it was Pippin's fault. He didn't know who was more surprised. Everard, who glared up at him from the ground with disbelief in his eyes; Pippin, who stood fidgeting in anxious discomfort, hopping from foot to foot; or Merry himself. He only knew that his chest was heaving with that same dull anger that tinged his thoughts of Pearl, and that his fists were clenched at his sides. Merry hadn't known he was going to do it, he'd just come round the corner of the barn and found Everard tormenting Pippin. He hadn't known he was going to do it, and neither, from the look of him, had Everard.
Merry walked away then, with Pippin trailing after him. He walked to the old apple tree in the corner of the kitchen garden and then he climbed up it, until the boughs were thin and whispy, and his head was poking out of the leaves. Their rustling was soothing, as always, and he was hidden there, for a little while. It almost made him remember what safety felt like, although he knew that was an illusion.
He didn't know what he felt when he heard other feet and hands climbing after him, and then the warmth of a small frame nestling into the same crooked branch. Pippin's breath was rapid, and his body shivered, as he looked out into the blue distance, but his eyes were clear. Merry reached out and pulled him close, because he had to, because he needed to be comforted, and because he couldn't let Pip fall, now could he?
It was the first time that Merry held Pippin safe in his arms, but it wouldn't be the last.