~ by Vanessa Parry-Elwen
 
Pippin selected another walnut from the dish at his side and whacked it. The shell shattered with a loud crack, and he set too, picking out the creamy flesh. “How long have they been out there now?”

Merry looked up at the clock tower. “Four hours.” He filched a bit of nut, and Pippin scowled, moving the rest beyond his reach.

“I hope that means luncheon soon. I’m starving.”

Merry snorted. “You’ve been eating non-stop since second breakfast.”

“Well, they haven’t given us elevenses yet… and it’s past eleven, I’m sure.” He smashed another nut. “How long does it take to hand over a ring, anyway?”

Merry frowned. “I have an awful feeling that there won’t be much handing over being done.”

Pippin’s hand stopped halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, that I know our cousin well enough to guess that he feels responsible in some way and that he’ll probably volunteer to go whenever with whoever decides to do whatever with it.” Merry folded his arms, his frown deepening.

Pippin pulverised another nutshell as he tried to unravel that statement.

“Pip. What are you using to smash those nuts?”

“I found it up there.” The youngster pointed to a balcony above them where the back of an elegant statue could just be seen. “It’s the hilt of some old sword.” He held it up. “The blade was broken, so I don’t think they’ll mind me using it. The pommel makes a perfect nutcracker.”

Image Credit: Pixabay